


Through Lonely Streets and Neon Lights

by sweetly_disposed



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Angst, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Gatsby Era, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jazz Age, M/M, Pining, Secret Relationship, poor!harry, rich!louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-01-11 02:16:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetly_disposed/pseuds/sweetly_disposed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1920's era, Great Gatsby inspired. Harry is a poor boy living in the South Village. Every night he watches the North City come alive and longs of crossing the river to be a part of it and escape his dreary life. The infamous Mr Tomlinson lives across the river from Harry. His parties are the stuff of legend; people on both sides know about them, and all Harry wants is a chance to go to one. When fate swings his way and he finds himself in Mr Tomlinson's house, he gets much more than he could ever have bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Now translated into Russian by the lovely [Nastya](http://www.larryforeverloveislove.tumblr.com)! Read it [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4840787/12514281#part_content). 
> 
> Disclaimer: This is my own original work, please do not post it anywhere else on the internet without my express permission.

Harry loved the summer.

Night fell late and dawn came early, and whenever he looked up the clouds seemed to be tinted pink with the rising and setting sun. The air in the tiny village he lived in seemed cleaner and fresher, and the sunlight that spilled into the streets made everything in Harry’s world just a little brighter. Evenings were the best part; when the light began to fade a little Harry would go out on his balcony, wrapped in a thin blanket for when the warm air turned cold, and sat with his feet tucked up under him to watch the hustle and bustle of the city across the river. He watched the change from afternoon to dusk to evening, and look on as the City lights lit up the dark sky. On a still night, if Harry listened hard enough, he could sometimes hear the excited shouts and delighted laughter from the high class partygoers in the North City, the faint sound of jazz music drifting across the river to him.

A row of grand houses lined the river across from Harry’s flat, huge buildings that had floors and floors of rooms Harry imagined to be lavishly decorated, crammed with people that smoked and drank, danced in the arms of their lovers until dawn and had the time of their lives. Harry sat alone in his old rickety wooden chair and ate small slices of stale bread he could barely afford for dinner and watched from a distance, desperately wishing he could be a part of it.

Harry lead a lonely life in the South Village; his family were long gone and he had no friends to speak of apart from Bert at the small bakery he worked at. His days passed slowly and always in exactly the same way. He rose before dawn and went to work, usually without breakfast, at the bakery down the street. The work was slow, and most of the money he made went on paying the rent on his shabby flat on the third floor of his building. If he ever had any spare money it would be stashed under his mattress immediately, before he could waste it. Every evening when his shift ended he always retreated home to see the stars come out and the North City come to life.

He’d never been to the North City. In fact, he wasn’t sure if anyone from his village ever had. It had been like that for as long as anyone could ever remember. People like Harry, who could barely afford to feed themselves and lived in tiny, run down flats with the plaster falling off the walls and the wallpaper peeling, lived in the South Village. People that were wealthy, who went to cocktail parties dressed in elaborate dresses and suits, who were heirs to million pound businesses and even owned a  _car_ , lived in the North City.

They never mixed; it was just how things were done. Most people in the Village thought the people in the City were stuck up snobs and didn’t want to mix with them, thank you very much, but Harry didn’t feel that way. He wanted to be with them, to talk to them, to be accepted, to be one of them. That’s why he kept any spare money he had under his mattress. One day he’d have enough to buy a suit, then maybe he’d be able to blend in across the bridge and find his way into one of those grand houses when they held parties.

There was a mansion directly across from Harry’s flat that he watched the most. Slightly bigger than all the others, it was painted white instead of the usual red brick. There was a party there every single Friday night, and Harry could time it to the minute when it would all start. When the Village clock struck nine, the music would begin and a line of cars crawled up the long driveway like giant shining beetles, queuing to drop their party guests off.

Through listening to gossip from customers in the bakery and eavesdropping on their conversations, Harry had gathered that the white mansion belonged to a Mr Tomlinson, head of a lucrative business that he'd taken over from his parents when he'd turned twenty one. According to the locals, Mr Tomlinson’s parties were the stuff of legend, and if you were lucky enough to be invited to one, your social status would go through the roof. Everybody Harry listened to said Mr Tomlinson was very handsome, but apparently completely unaware of how many women clamoured after him, or indeed, how many people wanted to attend his parties. Harry had also been told that even though Mr Tomlinson was still very young at only twenty five, only three years older than Harry himself, he was a humble man, generous and kind and very good judge of character. He could tell when someone was trying to get at him for his money, and apparently he wasn’t very nice if he found out someone was trying to trick him.

Harry knew he would risk it though; he’d risk angering the famous Mr. Tomlinson for a chance to go to one of his parties, for a chance to fit in, and not have people judge him instantly because of his wild hair and scruffy clothes that were more patched up holes than actual material. All he wanted was a chance to show people that there was more to him than a dead end job and a flat that had a leaky roof. All he needed was a break.

 

                                                                                                     *****

 

"Morning, Bert," Harry yawned as he stepped through the door into the old bakery. He hung up his holey cardigan on his peg and tied an apron around his waist, fumbling a little with the strings.

"Ah, hello young Harry," Bert smiled warmly, coming out of the back and wiping his hands on a towel before clapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder. He was a thin man and only slightly shorter than Harry, with a high forehead only accentuated by his receding hairline and warm brown eyes half-hidden by wire glasses that perched on the end of his nose. In his mid-fifties, his black hair was speckled with grey and he walked with a slight limp in his left leg from a motorbike accident when he was in his twenties. He’d always been kind to Harry, though, and together they had managed to keep the bakery in business. "Big order today son, best get cracking."

Harry nodded, pushing an errant lock of hair back onto his head, and set to work measuring out ingredients. He liked working on the big orders; the repetitive, methodical motions of measuring, weighing, stirring, kneading, and cutting soothed him. He and Bert worked in a comfortable silence, and when it was like this Harry could get lost inside his own head for hours.

The day passed quickly; lunchtime came and went (Harry kept working through it, he didn’t have anything to eat, anyway) and between the two of them they managed to get through most of the order. Harry was just finishing another count up of pastries and beginning to box them up, tying bows around each box that he filled, when Bert came rushing out to him

"Harry," Bert said, panic-stricken, "We’ve got a problem."

"What is it?"

"The delivery company has cancelled, they double-booked themselves for another big order, and we lost out."

Harry frowned and paused his work, setting down a tray of pink macaroons on the counter. "But...when is this order due for?"

"Tonight," Bert began to pace backwards and forwards, wringing his hands together. "There’s a party, the gentleman that ordered from us said it had to be done for tonight. Harry, it’s such a big event; we  _can’t_  miss out on this. The money it’ll bring us will be more than what we make in a month!"

"Bert, it’s okay," Harry shrugged, turning to unfold another box. "We’ll just take it on foot. The Village is small, the venue can’t be that far away."

"No, we can’t. Oh, lord, I should never have taken this order in the first place. I wondered why he was coming here but I didn’t question it. I should have, I should have turned him away. He must have hundreds of bakeries on  _his_  side..."

Harry froze. Slowly, he turned to face Bert again. "Bert," he interrupted the other man’s mutterings. "Where is the party tonight?"

"The North City," Bert moaned.

"You took an order from the  _North_? What were they doing over here in the first place?"

"God knows. Heavens, if we don’t get that order across the bridge there’ll be hell to pay. I'm telling you, this could be the end of us!"

"Who...who came in?"

Bert shot him a worried look, biting his lip. "That Mr. Tomlinson’s personal assistant."

Harry’s eyes widened. "Tomlinson?"

"I know, I know, he’s one of  _them_ , but he placed such a big order I didn’t want to refuse."

"I’ll go."

Bert stopped pacing and whirled to look at Harry. "You'll what?"

"I said I’ll go," Harry repeated just as quietly. "I don’t mind. I know I don’t look the part but I could just drop the order off at the door and leave again."

Bert hurried over to Harry and chucked his chin up with his thumb and forefinger to look directly into his eyes.

"You’d do that?" Harry nodded. "Harry...the people in the North aren’t very nice; they’re rich and stuck up and unfriendly. I won’t make you go."

"No, I want to," Harry said quickly. When Bert frowned he corrected himself. "I mean, the order has to get there somehow, this is the only way really, isn’t it?"

"Harry, you’re a star."

That’s how Harry found himself waiting outside the bakery for a taxi at half past eight that evening. He’d told Bert he could carry most of the boxes with him but Bert had insisted on the car, telling him the cost of the taxi would be more than covered by what completing that order would make them. He’d allowed Harry a warm bath at his family home, instructing him to wash his hair and shave while he was in there, and then he’d stuffed Harry into his old wedding suit, a simple black two-piece with a white shirt and black tie that was only a little too short in the arms and legs. Now Harry waited, surrounded by cake boxes and jittery with nerves.

When the taxi pulled up, the driver helped him with all of the boxes, and Harry rattled off Mr Tomlinson’s address that he’d memorised from Bert. He sat stiffly in the back of the car, clutching the door handle tightly as they jerked forward and bumped over the cobblestones towards the river. Harry peered out of the window eagerly, watching as they left his old village behind. There was a minute of calm as they drove over the wide expanse of the river, and then suddenly, Harry was thrown into an entirely different world.

The streets in the City were properly lit with bright streetlights, illuminating the bars and cafes on either side of the road that had ladies and gentlemen sat outside, reading the papers in the warm evening air and sipping coffee, or taking a stroll up and down the streets. Harry stared, wide eyed, at the sheer amount of people, the buzz of chatter and the rumble of car engines as they passed each other. It was so  _noisy_ , Harry could hear everything through the windows of the car. Everything looked so expensively made, so sophisticated and elegant compared to his little village.

They turned left down a street, and then left again, taking a long winding road that twisted and turned for what seemed like ages. There was a sharp turn again, and then they came into a clearing.

Harry’s mouth fell open.

They were here, Mr. Tomlinson’s house. It was so much bigger than he’d thought, looming over them as they drove up to it. The setting sun had cast a soft pink glow over the front of the house, and when he looked closer, nose almost pressed agasint the window, Harry could see ivy twining around the grand columns at the front door and up the rest of the building.

The taxi driver coughed and Harry started, fumbling around in his suit pocket for the money Bert had given him. He paid, then got out and unloaded the cake boxes carefully, stacking them up on the ground. The taxi drove off and Harry was left there, torn between wanting to stay looking up at the house forever, and wondering how the hell he was going to get all the boxes into the party.

"Oh thank god, there you are," a voice to his left said. "We were beginning to think you weren’t coming."

Harry turned to see a dark haired man dressed in a well fitting suit, holding a clipboard. He seemed only a little less nervous than Harry, brown eyes darting round to take in all the boxes on the floor.

"Hi?" Harry said timidly.

"Good evening, sir," The man replied. "I take it you’re from the bakery?"

"Yes?"

"Good, good." The man crossed something off his clipboard with a scratch of his pen. "I’m Liam Payne, Personal Assistant to Mr. Tomlinson...is this everything?" He gestured to the pile.

"Yes," Harry replied again, and bent to gather up a few.

"Excellent. We need to get them to the kitchen before the guests begin arriving. Niall!" Liam called, and a blond man came jogging over, dressed in the same attire as Liam. "Help us get these into the kitchen, would you?"

"Can do." Niall crouched to shift a few boxes into a tall pile, and hefted them up. Harry winced, hoping he hadn’t squashed a few of the more delicate pastries.

The two men strode off, and Harry hurried to keep up, peering over the tall pile of cakes he carried. He stumbled after them, following around the back of the house and through a side door. Liam and Niall hurried into the kitchen, but Harry stopped dead in the doorway, taken aback by the hustle and bustle of the staff flitting around making final touches to trays and trays of food. A couple of them flocked forwards to take the boxes from Harry and then began unloading them, arranging them prettily on the gleaming silver trays. Unsure, Harry made to leave.

"Hey!" Harry turned back to Liam. "Have we paid you?"

Harry mentally slapped himself for being so careless. "Oh, er, no, not yet."

"Didn’t think so. Here," He handed a thick envelope to Harry. "Thank you for getting here in time, and Mr Tomlinson sends his personal thanks for all your hard work." Liam inclined his head politely, then strode off up some stairs, eyes fixed on his clipboard.

Harry weighed the envelope in his hands, feeling its bulk. He dared to peek inside and gulped at the wad of notes. He’d never held this much money in all his life. He stroked over a note reverently, feeling it’s crispness under the pad of his finger. Looking around quickly, he carefully resealed the envelope and put it securely in the inside pocket of his jacket. He checked and doubled checked it was there, and then smoothed out his jacket, comforted by the bump of the envelope against his chest.

"Hope you didn’t get much trouble getting this lot over here tonight," a voice with a heavy Irish accent came from behind him. Harry peered around to see Niall, leaning against the door frame and fiddling with his shirt sleeve.

"No," He replied quietly. "None at all."

"Glad to hear it. Louis- I mean, Mr Tomlinson, is gonna be so happy you got them here. He’s heard great things about your little bakery, so he's been looking forward to them all day."

"Really?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Really," Niall grinned at Harry as he glanced down at his watch. "Right, I’d better go. Gotta escape this chaos down here and people will be arriving any minute now."

"Yeah, I’d better go, too."

Niall turned back to him, frowning. "Why? You got somewhere to be?"

"...No?"

"Then stay, have a drink or two, have fun. See if you can find Louis; I’m sure he’d want to meet you. Have a good night." With that, he was gone, heading up the same steps Liam had disappeared up.

After only a moments' indecision, Harry decided it really couldn't hurt if he hung around for five minutes, just to take a look around. He didn't have to stay long, after all, and he could tell Bert about it when he got to work tomorrow. With a glance around to check no one was watching him, he slunk after Niall, climbing the stairs.

The stairs, covered in red carpet with a smooth oak banister at the side, spiralled up through the entire house. It was wide and grand, and so well decorated that Harry couldn't help by stop every so often to look at the artwork hanging on the walls. At the first floor he came to, he stopped and peeked into the room.

It was huge, a wide expanse of space that was already being filled by guests, richly decorated with plush rugs and patterned wallpaper. Harry stuck to the edges of the room and shuffled round, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. A few people glanced at him and looked him up and down, and Harry couldn’t control the embarrassment that squirmed in the pit of his stomach. He knew he didn’t look as good as them; knew he still looked scruffy and dirty and like he didn’t belong, with his out of control hair, old, ill-fitting suit and gangly frame that screamed ‘starving’. Thankfully no one said anything. They simply turned away from him.

The jazz band playing at the back of the room were raised on a small platform, and Harry shuffled closer to watch in fascination. He’d been told what bands were and he knew about concerts, but he’d never had the chance to go to one. He watched on raptly as the performers worked together, sending the most delicious music drifting across the room. A few guests were already smoking, and as he walked past Harry couldn’t help but breathe in the heady smell of expensive perfume mixed with sharp, acrid smoke.

He stared, unable to stop himself, at the women in their straight, sleeveless jewelled dresses trimmed with tassels that just reached their knees in rich emerald, ruby and onyx. Their necks and wrists were embellished with strings of pearls that swung to and fro as they moved. They had glittering heeled shoes, short cropped hair with sparkling headbands, and red lips that parted as they threw their heads back and laughed; the epitome of high class. None of the ladies in the Village could ever dream of owning anything as elaborate as what they were wearing. The men, in their pinstripe suits, neckerchiefs and waistcoats fitting closely to lean legs and broad shoulders with their hair slicked over in a side parting had Harry's heart beating that little bit faster.

Each of the guests held a drink in their hand, ranging from dark amber liquid to brightly coloured cocktails to martinis in tall glasses. Harry stood alone, struggling to comprehend how lavish it was as he was approached by waiters who wanted to offer him a glass of champagne or a canapé or a cigarette. He accepted the food and drink and savoured them, eating slowly and barely concealing a moan at the way the small bite of food exploded over his taste buds and the bubbles of the champagne fizzed up his nose. His stomach gurgled, cramping a little at the sudden onslaught of food. When the next waiter drifted by, he stole another two canapés and escaped out of the room into the hall. Inhaling the food and washing it down with another gulp of champagne, he climbed more of the stairs until he could go no higher.

Through another huge room on the second floor there was a balcony, wide doors thrown open to let the night air in. Harry wound his way through the maze of people and out of the doors, finding himself to be the only person out there. Exhaling slowly in an effort to calm his still uneasy nerves, he squinted out across the river and looked on at his village. He scanned the river bank, and yes, there it was; his little flat. It looked miniscule from where he was. He wasn’t surprised when found he didn’t miss it at all; how could he when he was stood  _here_ , at the very heart of where he had always wanted to be?

"Hello."

Startled, Harry whirled around, nearly dropping his champagne glass. Quickly, he set it on the stone wall of the balcony before he could do any damage, and cleared his throat as he settled on the man in front of him.

"Evening," he squeaked.

The man before him was a little shorter than himself, dressed simply but effectively in a dark blue suit, white shirt open at the neck. From his perfectly dark brown hair slicked back from his forehead in a quiff to his shiny black shoes he was immaculately groomed. He smiled at Harry with twinkling blue eyes, and held out a hand.

"I don’t think we’ve met," he said, and Harry’s strained smile faltered. He didn’t want to shake this clearly wealthy gentleman’s hand, conscious of his grubby palms and the dirt under his fingernails.

"Oh, uh, I’m new in town," he said lamely and reluctantly reached out to quickly shake the man’s hand before hiding it behind his back. "Harry Styles."

"Nice to meet you Harry Styles. I’m Louis Tomlinson."

Harry felt his eyes widen. It was  _him_. "Oh, er hi Louis- Mr Tomlinson, I mean-"

The man grinned widely at Harry, taking him aback with the exposure of a row of perfect white teeth. "Hi," he chuckled a little. "And just Louis is fine. Mr Tomlinson makes me feel so old." He crossed over to Harry and looked out over the river with him. "So, are you enjoying the party, Mr. Styles?"

"Just Harry. And yes, very much. I haven’t been to party like this before." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Harry bit down on his lip fiercely.

"Oh?" Louis looked interested now. "Where are you from originally?"

"I, er..." Harry waved a hand vaguely. "I just meant they were much more boring at home."

"Ah," Louis didn’t push the issue, for which Harry was extremely grateful. "Well, I’m glad you’re having a good time. I’d better go, more people to meet." He rolled his eyes a little and winked, and Harry’s breath stuttered a little in his throat. "Here," he reached into the inside pocket of his suit. "Take my card so you have my telephone number. Will you come to next week’s party?"

"Oh, I guess so, if...if that’s okay?"

"It’s more than okay; I’ll have Liam put your name on the list." He turned to go, glancing back over his shoulder to look Harry subtly up and down, "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight," Harry called after him, clutching the business card fiercely in his hand.

 

                                                                                                                  *****

  
  
Throughout the next week, Harry kept that business card on him at all times. It was the first thing he looked at when he woke up and the last thing he looked at at night. He kept it in his pocket at work, and the thick paper almost felt heavier, like he could feel it bumping against his thigh. It was something new to keep him going. When he didn’t have any food for dinner and had to go to bed hungry on his mattress on the floor, he just had to look at the card and Bert’s suit hanging up, and he knew he could get through.

When the next Friday came, Harry washed his hair at his little sink with cold water, did his best to shave with his razor that was just shy of being completely blunt, and pulled on the suit before setting off on the forty five minute walk to Louis’ house. Once there, he gave his name and Liam let him in with a wave and a smile. If he noticed Harry was in the same suit as last week, he didn’t say anything. The first thing Harry did was hover near a waiter until he was offered some food. The waiter looked as him strangely as he took a handful instead of a single one, but Harry couldn’t find it in himself to care. The small mouthfuls did the job in staving off his hunger pangs.

Harry found Louis on the second floor talking to the blond man Harry remembered as Niall from the week before. He approached them slowly, and Louis grinned widely when he caught sight of him.

"Harry!" He grinned, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "You came!"

"Yeah," Louis’ touch was heavy on his arm and Harry swallowed against the feeling. "Hi."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Niall looking between them, a strange expression on his face.

"This is Niall Horan, my security guard," Louis introduced and Niall nodded.

"Evening, again."

"Excellent." Louis clapped his hands together and Harry caught him looking over his suit. His gaze stopped suddenly, a crease marring his forehead, and for a second Harry began to panic.

"Harry, have you not been offered a drink? Good God, you cannot get the staff these days. Stay with Niall, I’ll be right back." With that he marched off in search of a waiter, and Harry could breathe easy.

"So," Niall said conversationally. "I remember you from last week, you dropped the cakes off."

Harry was suddenly nervous again. He briefly wondered if he should play dumb and say it wasn’t him, but then Niall was security, most likely trained to never forget a face.

"Mmn," He made a non-committal noise.

Niall frowned. "I know where Louis found the bakery. It was in the South Village. Does that mean you’re from...?"

Harry’s throat constricted. "Please don’t tell," he blurted. "Please, I just want to get to know Louis, I’ve heard so much about him-"

"Hey, hey," Niall held his hands up, palms facing Harry. "I don’t judge, mate, it doesn’t matter to me where you’re from. I kind of guessed anyway." At Harry’s panicked stare he rushed on. "Don’t worry, nothing too obvious. Just from the way you were looking at the money Louis paid you last week. No one who’s from this side looks at money the way you did."

"Oh," Harry didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or relieved. "Well I guess, yeah, I’m from...there."

"That’s okay, mate. Really, it’s fine. Your secret’s safe with me, trust me, I know all sorts of stuff around here. Listen though, lemme give you a word of advice: if you plan on sticking around Louis, tell him sooner rather than later, yeah? He hates being lied to."

Harry felt himself nod jerkily. "Yeah, okay, I’ll find a time."

"Good," Niall grinned, straightening up just as Louis strode back over to them, glass in his hand.

"There," he handed Harry a glass tumbler with a small amount of amber liquid in the bottom. Harry nodded his thanks and brought the glass to his mouth, inhaling subtly. The smell of the alcohol made his eyes water a little but he took a sip nonetheless under Louis’ watchful gaze. It burned down his throat and into his belly and he fought hard against the urge to wince and throw the rest of it away. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had as much alcohol; the most he’d even been able to afford was half a pint down the pub when he’d had the money.

"Come on", Louis was saying, "I have to go circulate and I don’t want to do it alone. Come with me, won’t you?"

For the rest of the night, Louis stuck to Harry’s side. Harry tried to work out if Louis was... _like him_. Women fawned over him and pressed kisses to his cheek in greeting, fluttering their long eyelashes, but he didn’t seem to take any notice. He watched Harry a lot, though, whispering things into his ear about some of the guests, little snippets of gossip that made Harry either laugh loudly or blush all the way down his neck. He touched him too; casual touches to his forearm when he wanted his attention, or a hand on the small of his back to guide him through the crowds.

Harry had more and more of that alcohol Louis had given him, and by the time the evening was winding down again there was a pleasant buzz in Harry’s ears, a feeling of warmth spreading from his middle outwards. Gradually, the guests filed out, with Niall having to help a few to their cars. Harry was the last to leave and Louis lead him to the front door, slowing him just as he was about to step out.

"Thanks for coming again tonight, Harry."

"I wouldn’t have missed it. I had fun."

"I’m glad." Louis opened his mouth, as if to say something else, but instead he thrust out a hand, "I’ll see you next Friday?"

"Definitely," Harry promised. He shook Louis’ hand, feeling his warm, dry skin in Harry’s own slightly sweaty palm.

He made to leave, attempting to pull his hand from Louis’, but Louis didn’t let go. Then all of a sudden, Harry was yanked forward and a soft kiss was pressed to his cheek. His heart stuttered in his chest, and he glanced around quickly to check no one was looking. His cheek burned where Louis’ lips touched him, and this close he could smell Louis’ cologne mixing in with the sharp alcohol on his breath and smoke from all the guests on his clothes. Almost subconsciously he inhaled deeply, trying to commit that smell to memory.

Louis pulled back, and Harry could see wariness in his eyes. Louis’ tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip and Harry couldn’t help but stare, transfixed.

"Okay?" Louis said nervously. "I mean, are you...?"

Harry nodded. "Uh huh. I mean, yes. And, yeah, that’s...okay."

Louis beamed. "All right," he murmured, eyes sparkling. "’Kay." Then he pulled back, releasing Harry’s hand, and backed up a couple of steps. "Night, Harry."

Harry stared for a moment, then with great effort he let himself out, throwing a quiet ‘Night’ over his shoulder. 

 

                                                                                                  *****

 

  
The next Friday he was back in his suit, almost skipping to Louis’ house. The week had passed so slowly it had almost been unbearable. He’d spent every night staying up late watching the grand house over the river, closing his eyes to conjure up images of Louis in his mind, concentrating hard until he could smell him once more, feel him pressed close with his mouth on his cheek. Harry ached for that contact again and wished the week to speed up.

At work, he spent most of his time daydreaming about the coming party. Bert had chuckled at him once or twice about how he was ‘away with the fairies’, but he’d also come up to him one night when they were closing to pat him on the shoulder, tell him how nice it was to see him smiling, and then given him some extra money as a tip. Harry had had a full hot meal that night, and hadn’t been able to remember a time when he’d been so content. He’d done his best to wash his suit, using the little resources he had to clean it up. It dried quickly with a few wrinkles that Harry had tried his hardest to flatten out, wanting to look his best for Louis.

At a quarter past eight on Friday he could bear it no longer and set off, willing himself not to break into a run over the bridge. He arrived just as the band started playing. Liam nodded and smiled, letting him in without Harry question. As was quickly becoming his routine, he made a beeline for a waiter and nabbed a handful of food, swallowing it down, and quickly swiped a glass of wine from another passing tray. He was on the hunt for more food, when a voice calling his name stopped him in his tracks.

"Harry!"

Harry turned, a smile already breaking out on his face. "Hi," He replied in a quieter voice and made his way over to Louis, who was standing with a group of a few men and women.

"Good to see you again!" Louis beamed, shaking Harry’s hand formally while the other guests watched on. Harry met Louis’ eyes, and it felt like the bottom of his stomach had dropped out when he saw something a little darker lingering under his polite outward appearance. His hand trembled a little when Louis’s little finger curved upwards, stroking down the underside of Harry’s wrist gently.

"This is a friend of mine, Harry Styles," Louis was saying to the group. "He’s new in town."

"Oh," said a portly gentleman in a pinstripe suit, clutching a glass of champagne. "Where are you from originally?"

"Not very far," Harry heard himself saying, still holding Louis’ hand. "I moved closer to get a change of scene."

"Well, I hope you get to love the North City. No place like it!"

"Quite," said Louis. "Excuse us, will you?"

Harry was lead over to a corner of the room by one of the large windows. They stood a respectable distance from each other, but Louis leaned in close to talk to him and Harry shuffled closer instinctively, like one magnet drawn to another.

"Glad you’re here," Louis whispered. "I...missed you this week."

Harry swallowed past the lump forming in his throat. "Me too. This week went so slowly, I swear." He eyed a waiter going past them, and stole another canapé (his ninth, perhaps?) from the tray.

Louis chuckled. "Are you hungry?"

Harry hummed an affirmative. "Forgot to have dinner," he lied around the mouthful of food.

"Seriously?" Harry nodded. Louis shook his head in disbelief, and held an arm out to stop the same waiter that had just passed them. "Excuse me, my good friend here has come straight from work and hasn’t eaten...could you perhaps get him a plate of something from the kitchen?"

The waiter nodded, bowed a little and scurried off downstairs. Louis turned back to Harry, grinning, and Harry's chest tightened at Louis' kind gesture. A  _whole_  plate of food that was just for Harry.

"Thank you, Louis."

"My pleasure. Listen, I have to go and mingle with people...why don’t you go and chat to Niall while you eat, and I’ll catch up with you later, okay?" Harry nodded. "Don’t leave without saying goodbye."

"Promise."

"Ah, thank you," Louis said as the waiter reappeared, handing a plate of food to Harry. Harry greedily took in everything he’d been given; fresh buttered bread, some cheese, olives, thick slices of ham and... _lemon cake_.

"You’re hungrier than I thought," Louis murmured. "If you want more, just go down to the kitchen and help yourself, yeah? I’ll see you later." He patted Harry’s forearm, letting his hand rest there for a moment, then moved off, winding through the crowd and playing the role of perfect host.

Harry slid around the outside of the gathering of people to where Niall stood by the double doors, eyes scanning the place with a casual air.

"Hey, Harry. Whoa, hang on," His eyes snapped to Harry’s hands. "How come  _you_  get dinner now?"

"Erm, Louis said I could?" Harry held out the plate and Niall’s hand shot out to steal an olive.

"Did he now?" Niall said. His lips twitched.

"What’s funny?" Harry broke off a piece of the lemon cake and slipped it between his lips.

"No, no, nothing," Niall snorted.

"Come on," Harry nudged him with his elbow. "Tell me."

"...Okay, fine. It’s just that Louis has never done that for any guest before, been so... _overly accommodating_. Also, he keeps looking this way. At you, specifically."

"He does?" Harry strained to look over the crowds, looking for a familiar head of dark hair.

"Over there," Niall said under his breath, nodding at the far wall by the band. "With the lady with the red hair.’

"I see him."

Louis was chatting to a woman with a fur stole around her shoulders, laughing animatedly with her. As Harry watched him, though, his eyes slid to Harry’s and he winked slowly. Harry ducked down quickly, blushing, as Niall chuckled.

"Told you. He stares at you."

"Does it look weird?" Harry asked Niall worriedly. "Are people going to notice?"

"No, people will think he’s just checking in with me," Niall reassured him.

"Do you think I should go somewhere else? Like another room or something?"

"Nope," Niall said confidently. "I’m pretty sure that if you disappear from his line of sight he’d send me to drag you back again. See?" Harry looked in the direction Niall gestured, watching as Louis’ eyes flickered to him as he spoke to a stocky man in a hat.

"I still don’t want to draw attention to myself."

"You're not. He’s doing that for you."

"Oh, god."

Later, Harry hung back as the guests left, hiding himself on the balcony and watching them all file out. When the last one had gone, and Louis had finished waving them off and had shut the doors behind them, he disappeared. Harry stayed put and waited to be found, heart beating a little faster with anticipation.

He looked out at his little flat across the water and his stomach twisted. He should tell Louis he was from the Village, just in case things went a bit further than Harry had imagined they would. Really, he wanted to pretend he had lived in the North all his life, but he couldn’t lie forever, and Niall had already confirmed that Louis hated being kept from the truth. Louis had been so kind to him already that he deserved to know.

"There you are," Louis said from behind him, relief evident in his voice. "I thought you’d left."

Harry turned to face him. "I promised I wouldn’t."

"I know..." Louis came closer, pressing in his space and leaning up a little so he was nose to nose with Harry. "Hi."

Harry stepped back a little at his forwardness, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hi. Listen Louis, there’s something-"

But Louis advanced again. "I thought about you all week, you know."

Harry stopped, thrown off. "You did?"

"Mhm. Thought of little else. You know, I like you, Harry..." Louis leant in closer, tilting his head a little to the left.

Harry put his hands on Louis’ shoulders, tilting his face up out of reach. "Actually, Louis, you ought to know- _ah_ -"

Louis pressed his lips to Harry’s neck again, three times, before trying to lean up again. "I know, I know, we shouldn’t do this, but God help me, there's something about you. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you."

That hadn’t been what Harry had been trying to say, but the way Louis breathed those words into his skin had something inside him breaking and he bent his head to take Louis’ lips in his own. Louis let out a soft sound and gripped Harry’s neck, pressing back hard. Harry wrapped his arms around Louis waist to keep him close to his body. He tasted of bitter alcohol, and Harry licked along his bottom lip, trying to taste more. His breathing came harshly and he could hear Louis’ own short breaths echoing in his ears. A tongue touched his lips and he parted them willingly, letting Louis’ tongue flick over his own.

"Louis," Harry panted out between kisses. "We can’t...this is wrong..."

"S’not wrong," Louis argued back, lifting a hand to run his fingers through Harry’s hair, "S’good, s’perfect.  _God_ , what you do to me. First time I saw you...." He paused to lick into Harry’s mouth, hands sliding up his back. "Fuck it, stay with me tonight?"

"Yes," Harry agreed immediately, all rational thought evaporating. "Fuck, yes."

With difficulty they broke apart. Louis grabbed Harry’s hand and guided him inside, pulling him back through the huge room and down a corridor to another set of rooms that were shut off to the guests. A mahogany door at the end of the corridor was opened to reveal a room almost as big as the one they were just in. Spacious and comfortable, its main feature was the bed, high off the ground and covered in cushions and pillows. A floor-length gilded mirror hung on the wall across from the bed, gleaming in the lights Louis switched on.

Harry was pushed down gently onto the bed, and he almost let out a groan at how soft the bedding was. Louis climbed on top of him and he sunk down into the thick mattress even more. Louis nipped at his neck and Harry got to work, pushing Louis’ jacket from his broad shoulders and pulling his shirt from his waistband. Hot skin met his fingers when he pushed his hands under the shirt and Louis moaned into his mouth, making quick work of the buttons on Harry’s own shirt.

"Help me, Harry."

Harry pulled away, sitting up to clumsily yank his shirt off and shuck off the rest of his clothes. Louis did the same in front of him, and Harry watched in awe as Louis' clothes peeled off his body to reveal smooth tanned skin, unblemished and utterly mouthwatering. Harry was suddenly conscious of his own skinny body, his ribs that protruded and the bruises he had from tripping over things in his flat. He reached for a blanket, intending to cover part of himself up.

"Ah, none of that," Louis gripped his wrist.

"But Lou-"

"No." Louis bent to kiss the breath out of him, effectively shutting him up, then trailed his mouth down Harry’s neck, down his chest and circling around his belly button. Harry’s stomach rose and fell quickly with his sharp, uneven breaths. He was already painfully hard, and Louis was so close to him he felt like he was being pushed towards the edge already. He pulled Louis up to kiss him again, feeling Louis’ own cock press into his stomach.

"Ha-Harry," Louis said around his lips. "Have you done this before?"

Harry jerked his head, grimacing. "Only once. It was a long time ago."

"That’s fine." Louis murmured gently. "Do you want to top, then?"

"No, you. Please."

"Okay," Louis slid down his chest again, pausing only to flick a nipple with his tongue. A warm hand enclosed his cock, and Harry took another sharp intake of breath, looking down to watch. Louis moved his hand a couple of times, swiping a thumb over the head to use his precome to make it smoother. Without warning he bent down, taking the first couple of inches into his mouth, and Harry’s spine bent off the bed as he cried out.

"Louis-" he panted, and Louis kept going, taking more into his mouth and flattening his tongue on the underside of his cock. His other hand rubbed circles on Harry’s trembling stomach.

"Louis!"

Thankfully Louis pulled off then, pulling himself back up Harry’s chest and murmuring to him.

"It’s okay," he soothed. "Calm down, shh," he pressed little kisses to the corners of Harry’s mouth, under each eye and down his nose.

When Harry was sure he had himself more under control, he spread his legs so his thighs cradled Louis’ hips, and they both let out a groan when their cocks bumped together a little. Louis kissed him slowly, sliding their tongues together gently. Harry felt a hand sliding lower, stroking the skin of his stomach, brushing past his cock and bending under. A finger rubbed over the skin just underneath his balls gently.

"Do you have...stuff?" Harry asked awkwardly, pulling away from Louis’ mouth.

"Think so, hang on."

Louis climbed off him and hurried to his dresser, rifling through the top draw. While he was gone Harry looked to his left, catching sight of himself in the huge mirror on the wall. He hardly recognized himself. He knew the over-skinniness and the pale skin and the messy hair, but under that there was someone different; pink cheeks and a flushed chest, a flat stomach and knees bent in a provocative position. He almost looked...alive.

Harry felt the bed dip under Louis’ weight and turned his attention away from the mirror. Louis set a little pot of petroleum jelly near his hip and settled once more between his knees.

"Ready?" he asked, running a hand over Harry’s calf, and Harry nodded.

Louis smeared some jelly between his fingers, warming it a little, before kissing Harry’s knee and rubbing his finger under Harry’s balls, pressing and searching. When the skin gave way Louis pushed in a little, pausing at the first knuckle. Harry wrinkled his nose a little at the intrusion.

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Carry on."

Louis’ finger disappeared a little more. He moved it around a little and Harry shifted with it, adapting quickly.

"Next one," he breathed, and Louis complied, using his other hand to smear his middle finger with jelly before beginning to push that one in. Harry squirmed a little at the burn then and Louis paused, waiting until Harry nodded for him to continue. When two were all the way in Louis moved them, parting them slightly to stretch Harry out.

"Can you manage a third?" he asked lowly, and got a nod in reply. Harry hissed, though, when a third finger joined the others and Louis stilled, bending to press kisses to the inside of Harry’s thigh.

"That’s it," he mouthed quietly against his skin. "Doing well." At Harry’s nod he pushed the third finger all the way in, separating them and moving them in and out.

When Harry started making little noises of pleasure Louis stopped, withdrawing his fingers carefully and coating his cock with the jelly. Moving closer he positioned himself between Harry’s legs, pushing his knees back to see what he was doing better. Harry held his knees for him, but when he felt a blunt pressure pushing at his hole he let them slip out of his hands, fingers scrabbling for purchase. The tip of Louis’ cock breached him and the burn had him whimpering. At that sound Louis shifted and reached up, linking his fingers with Harry’s on one hand. Harry held on, bringing his other hand to his mouth to bite down on the skin on the back of it, trying to muffle the keening noises that escaped him. Louis pushed forward another centimetre and Harry couldn’t stop himself; he cried out and pushed at Louis’ chest to stop him.

"Harry?" Louis asked, concern evident. "Okay? Do you want me to pull out?"

"No, just stop for a minute, please," Harry bit out, breathing slowly through the pain. It had been so long for him he’d forgotten how uncomfortable it could be. Louis bent over him, squeezing his hand and kissing his mouth, swallowing Harry’s little whines.

"I’m sorry," Louis sounded tortured. "That’s it, I’m pulling out."

"No!" Harry grabbed at his shoulder. "No, just give me a moment."

Louis did as asked, running his free hand over Harry’s skin, coaxing his wilting erection back to life again and Harry took deep, shuddering breaths.

"Right," Harry nodded after a minute. "Try now."

Louis eyed him for a moment, and then pushed his hips forward a little. Harry gasped, but the pain was ebbing slowly. Louis kept going, pushing all the way in until his hips were flush with Harry’s.

"God, you’re tight."

"Go on," Harry encouraged almost immediately. "Move."

The first couple of thrusts were rough, but then things began to go more evenly. Harry began tilting his hips, meeting Louis’ slowly rolling thrusts. He wrapped his arms around Louis’ back and pulled him down so they were chest to chest, kissing him fiercely between breaths. With Louis’ arms wrapped under his back, he was all Harry could see, hear, smell, touch and taste. Surrounded completely by Louis, Harry felt so full and warm and cared for, and he tipped his head back to feel Louis graze his teeth along his neck, licking and sucking a mark into the skin on his collarbone. The idea of being marked up as somebody’s, of belonging to someone, of being claimed, had something strange swelling in his chest, rising up his throat and escaping in a breathy moan.

Louis’ pace increased; he propped himself up on his hands and bore down, pushing Harry into the mattress. Harry raised his ankles to lock Louis to him and held on as Louis pushed harder, as deep as he could go, sending Harry hurtling towards the edge.

"Harry-"

" _Yes_."

Louis reconnected their mouths again, stealing Harry’s breath and leaving him lightheaded, and then Harry knew nothing else but LouisLouis _Louis_ -

He broke, coming over his and Louis’ stomach with a shout. Louis kept thrusting through the roaring in his ears, and suddenly he stilled too, collapsing onto Harry with a groan. A new heat filled Harry and he revelled in it, stroking a hand down Louis’ sweaty back as their chests heaved.

Just as the feel of Louis inside him was becoming uncomfortable, he pulled out, rolling over and pulling Harry close to his chest. Harry wrinkled his nose a little at the feel of the wetness leaking out of him but he paid it no mind, shifting down the bed to rest his head on Louis’ shoulder.

"Jesus," Louis said as his breathing got back to normal, "That was incredible."

Harry hummed an agreement, idly playing with the fingers of Louis’ left hand as he listened to Louis’ heartbeat slow. With a half-hearted gesture Louis used the duvet to clean them up the best he could, before throwing it to the end of the bed and linking their hands properly. A yawn escaped Harry’s mouth before he could stop it; too comfortable and sated lying half on top of Louis. The very thought of having to leave and go back to his cold flat and sleep on his old mattress with his thin blanket made Harry shiver a little.

"You cold?’ Louis said blearily, looking sleepy himself. Pushing the dirty bedclothes away from them he felt around for one of the clean blankets, throwing the thick material over the both of them.

"Can I stay here tonight, then?"

"Mmn, I’d be offended if you didn’t," Louis said quietly, pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead and pulling him closer. Harry watched Louis’ eyes slip shut and his breathing even out before he let himself follow, drifting into darkness.

 

 

                                                                                                                  *****

 

The first thing Harry registered when he woke up was that he was warm, and comfortable. He uncurled his legs slowly, hearing them click as he stretched out down the bed. There was a heavy stiffness to his limbs that told him he’d been able to get hours of blissful, completely uninterrupted sleep. The soft mattress seemed to have moulded around his body, cradling him in its comfort. Through his fuzzy brain he decided that given the choice, he’d probably stay here forever.

He shifted onto his side so he was facing Louis, then slowly cracked his eyes open. At first Louis was just a blurry shape, but as Harry’s eyes got used to the light coming in through the window he could begin to make out his features. Louis faced Harry too, head propped up on an elbow, smiling at him sleepily. He blinked slowly, smile turning soft as he watched Harry shift around in the sheets.

"What?" Harry asked, voice thick and muffled under the blankets.

Louis only shrugged, "Nothin’. Morning." His own voice was hoarse, cracking in places.

"Mornin’," Harry tucked his face deeper into the blankets and let out an almighty yawn. Louis huffed a laugh and nudged closer, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist and touching their foreheads together.

"You okay?"

Harry went slightly cross eyed trying to make eye contact with Louis, and ignored the laugh he got for his efforts. "M’fine." He lifted a leg to hook it over Louis’ hip and winced a little at the burn in the back of his thigh. "Sore. You?"

"Fine." Louis replied. He peeled the blankets back and pressed a little kiss to Harry’s mouth, and Harry felt his stubble scratch across his, all rough and bristly. "You hungry?"

The possibility of food had Harry’s stomach rumbling and he nodded eagerly. "Yeah, definitely."

"Breakfast, then," Louis said, sitting up and throwing the covers off them. Harry made a little sound of protest at having his nest taken from him, but then Louis threw a dressing gown at him, turning back to the wardrobe to find another, and Harry’s mouth fell open.  

Long, red scratches ran down Louis' back, from his shoulder blades to his waist. Had Harry done that? He looked down at his hands, examining his nails.

"What’s up?" Louis asked, pulling a dark blue robe from the wardrobe.

"Your back..." Harry said, eyes wide. "I’m so sorry."

Louis frowned and turned to the mirror, peering over his shoulder at his reflection.

"Huh," he said, curling an arm around to trail a finger over some of the lower scratches. "You’d think I would have felt that." He shrugged and pulled his robe on, winking at Harry. "Animal."

Harry blushed then, and when Louis held a hand out to him he scrambled out of the bedclothes and pulled his own matching gown on. The material was thick and fluffy against his skin and he tied it tight around his waist, making sure he was completely covered. He glanced in the mirror to make sure, then stepped in and out of the various items of clothing on the floor surrounding the bed to take Louis’ outstretched hand.

"So, food," Louis said, leading him to the door. Harry pulled back, though, trying to pull his hand away before they stepped into the corridor. Louis raised an eyebrow.

"Won’t someone see?" Harry asked. "Some of your...staff?"

"It’s still early," Louis said, gripping Harry’s hand tightly and pulling him out of the door. "No one gets here until around ten...I like having the house to myself for a few hours each day. There’s always someone here during the day; it’s nice for it to be peaceful for a while."

They descended the stairs, passing the party rooms that had yet to be cleaned from the night before. "The cleaners are the first to get here. They come in at ten, have something to eat if they want it, then they get to work cleaning this lot up," Louis explained, waving a hand at some abandoned glasses in the hallway.

"You let them eat here?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, they all live in the City, but some of them are from poorer families than others. If I can give them a free meal, I will. They’re not as bad as some of the people from over the river, though, in the South Village." Harry gulped. "I’ve heard they have literally nothing."

‘Yeah. I mean, I’ve heard that, too," Harry nodded.

In the kitchen, Louis pulled out two chairs from the table and sat Harry down in one, then began searching through the cupboards.

"What do you feel like? There’s some food left over from last night, or I’ve got bread for toast, some cereal stuff, waffles, bacon, pancakes...?" He looked over at Harry, eyebrows raised.

Harry’s mouth was watering so much he had to swallow before he could speak. "Do you think I could have bacon?...And pancakes?...And maybe a waffle or two?"

"You  _are_  hungry," Louis commented, beginning to pull things out of the cupboard and padding over to the stove. "Yes, Mr Styles, anything your heart desires. I need to feed you up anyway, you’re far too skinny."

Harry grimaced, pulling the robe tighter around himself. Louis rooted around in the fridge for a carton of milk and poured some into a jug, setting it on the table. He put a bag of sugar down next to it, and finally presented Harry with a coffee cup. When his back was turned, frying the bacon at the stove, Harry sniffed the dark liquid. It smelt heavenly, and he lifted it to his lips to take a sip. It was so bitter, though, Harry nearly gagged, and he quickly dumped milk and a huge amount of sugar into it, stirring it quickly and tasting it until it was okay. Perhaps it was an acquired taste.

Minutes later, Louis set down a plate piled high with piping hot food. Harry waited for Louis to sit across from him with his own food and coffee and then looked down at his plate, unsure where to start. Deciding on bacon, he speared a bit and lifted it to his mouth. The taste was incredible, smoky and warming, and in no time he had eaten the lot, following the bacon with pancakes and waffles, following Louis’ lead when it came to pouring syrup over them.  
He leaned back in his chair when he was done, placing his hands on his slightly distended belly.

"That was amazing. Thank you," he said, and Louis eyed him, still halfway through his food.

"God, when was the last time you ate?" he joked, and Harry tried to smile genuinely in return. "Do you want more?" Harry shook his head. When Louis had finished he stood, taking their plates to the sink and turning on the taps.

"You don’t have to do that, you know," Louis wrapped his hands rounds Harry’s waist from behind, nosing at the back of his neck. "Staff will be here soon."

"I want to. To say thank you."

He felt a rush of air on his neck as Louis huffed a laugh. "You don’t have to say thank you. C’mere," he turned Harry round by his hips and stretched up to press their lips together. Harry smiled back, tasting the remnants of coffee and bacon on Louis’ tongue. Without thinking, he cupped the back of Louis’ head with one wet hand and Louis shivered as drops of water ran down the back of his neck. He was just beginning to untie the front of Harry’s robe when-

"Morning, Louis. Hi, Harry."

Harry jumped back, yanking himself away from Louis and pulling his robe back over his body. Liam stood in the doorway, dressed casually in grey chinos and a dark blue pullover. He already had his clipboard in hand.

"It’s not what it looks like!" Harry blurted, heart in his mouth. He gestured between himself and Louis with a trembling hand. "We were, I mean- I was just-"

"Relax, Harry," Louis slid closer, rubbing his bicep comfortingly. "Liam knows."

"He...he does?"

"Uh-huh," Liam smiled warmly. "Ever since I start working for him."

"Oh."

"Niall knows too," Louis told him, pulling Harry to him by his hip. "It’s all fine."

Harry let the breath he’d been holding escape slowly. "Oh. Okay."

"Louis, you’ve got a meeting with Mr Charford at one," Liam continued like he hadn’t seen anything. "Ms Littlefield at three, then dinner with Mr and Mrs-"

"Cancel all that, Liam," Louis said smoothly. Liam’s head snapped up from the clipboard.

"I’m sorry?"

"Cancel it all. Say I’m awfully sorry but I’ve been taken ill and will have to reschedule."

"...Oh my god, you’re serious. Louis these people have been waiting to meet with you for weeks!"

"Well they can wait one more week, can’t they?! I’ve changed my plans."

"To what?!"

Louis grabbed Harry’s hand. "We’re going into town."

 

                                                                                                    *****

  
"So do all your staff know? That you’re...you know," Harry said from the passenger seat of Louis' car (Louis had his own  _car_! He could  _drive_!) as he stroked his fingers across the smooth red leather seats reverently. They’d left Liam spluttering in the kitchen about cancellations and returned to Louis’ room. A door at the back of the room lead to a lavish bathroom, and Louis had run them a steaming bath that they’d shared. He’d even washed Harry’s hair for him. Louis had let him borrow some underwear and shirt that was only a little small, and Harry had pulled on his suit trousers from the night before. He thought he looked quite good, actually. Like he belonged in the City.

"No, only you, Liam, and Niall," Louis replied, turning left down a street that held rows of shops either side. "The staff aren’t around until ten but those two sometimes come in earlier, especially Liam, to organize me. I sometimes forget I pay them; they’re more like friends. Niall has a fiancée but Liam...with him it’s tricky." Harry looked over curiously. "He’s like us, and he has this thing going on with one of my business partners, Zayn."

"Really?...Why is it difficult?"

"Zayn’s married," Harry felt his mouth pop open. "Yeah, I know. So that makes things a hell of a lot harder for them than it is for us."

"But didn’t he know he was...you know, before he got married?"

Louis shrugged. "Don’t know. But I met Zayn when he was already married, and he met Liam when he and his wife came to one of the parties. I’m pretty sure they’re gone for each other, but there’s not a lot they can do about it."

Harry bit his lip, feeling both sorry and, terribly of him, a little relieved. He was bitterly sorry for Liam and Zayn, but he was so, so thankful that he’d met Louis before he’d got the chance to get married.

Louis parked the car and Harry fumbled with the door handle, letting himself out and walking around the side of the gleaming black car to join Louis. He waited for Louis to put his driving gloves away, peering up and down the street at the rows of boutiques and restaurants. Ladies and gentlemen strolled up and down, dressed in light, expensive looking summer dresses and shirts. Some held hat boxes, others held bags stuffed with purchases.

"Come on," Louis said, leading him down the pavement. "I need a new suit."

They stepped into an airy shop, with polished wooden floors and wallpapered walls. Harry looked around as a shop assistant hurried over to ask if they could be of assistance. There were rows upon rows of suits every colour he could imagine, with waistcoats and shoes and bow ties to match. As they wandered further into the shop there was an array of handkerchiefs, silky and delicate, followed by hats and canes and finally, in a glass cabinet by the cashier’s desk, lines of sparkling cufflinks. Harry blinked down at them as the overhead light caught the gleaming silver.

"Something smart," Louis was saying as the tailor began measuring him. "And the same for my friend here."

Harry’s heart seized. He hurried over to Louis when the shop assistant moved off to find a pair of shoes in Louis’ size, careful to not be overheard.

"Louis," he hissed, "I didn’t bring any money with me."

"So?" Louis shrugged. "My treat."

"Oh, no, no I couldn’t possibly-"

"Ah," Louis held up a finger at him, grinning. "My. Treat. I want to."

Another assistant hovered by Harry’s shoulder, tape measure in hand. Harry worried his bottom lip between his teeth, frowning, but Louis was smiling encouragingly at him, so he reluctantly held his arms out.

What felt like hours later, Harry staggered out of the shop with his arms laden of boxes and suit bags. Louis hadn’t stopped at just trousers and a jacket, oh no. Harry now had a proper outfit, with a waistcoat and a silk tie and matching handkerchief, shoes, even socks, and a sparkling set of cufflinks that he’d insisted Harry choose. Casual things too, chinos and well fitting shirts and light summer jumpers. The price it had come to for everything had made Harry lightheaded, but Louis hadn’t even blinked, handing the money over easily. It had cost more than Harry would make in two months at the bakery.

"Louis," he said, placing their purchases gently in the back seat of the car. "...Thank you."

"My pleasure," Louis said, smiling widely. He glanced at his watch. "Think you could eat again?"

Harry couldn’t help his nod.

"Great, I know a little place down the street."

The restaurant was not ‘little’ by any means. With a towering ceiling and not one but two chandeliers hanging from it, it was by far the grandest place Harry had ever set foot in, and that was including Louis’ house. They were lead to a table by a waiter, and Harry scanned down the menu, trying to imagine what each complicated looking dish would taste like.

"What do you fancy?" Louis asked him, eyes on his own menu. Another waiter came by and placed two icy glasses of lemonade next to them, then took out a pad of paper, pen poised.

"I’ll have the sea bass, please," Louis said, handing his menu off.

Harry nodded. "I’ll have the same, thank you." The waiter scribbled down their order, nodding before he walked off.

"Have you been in here before?" Louis asked and Harry shook his head in reply. "Ah, well you made a good choice, the sea bass is incredible. Where do you usually go for dinner when you come into the City?"

"Uh, well, it’s been a long time," Harry took a gulp of the lemonade, trying to calm his flustered nerves. "I used to come with my family sometimes...I don’t remember the name of the place."

"You should see if you can find it again, it would be nice to go back. You could take me," Louis smiled, and Harry wanted to cry. Louis was so lovely and generous; it wasn’t right that Harry was lying to him. "What happened to your family, if you don’t mind me asking?"

"Oh...no, I don’t mind. They, uh, moved a long way away when my Dad’s business fell through." That part was the truth at least, Harry reassured himself. "I liked the City too much, so I stayed in the area."

"What business was he in?" Louis asked, leaning back so the waiter could place his plate down in front of him. Harry didn’t answer until the waiter had gone and they’d both taken a mouthful of food, buying himself time.

"He was a publisher. We printed books. But, you know, things went wrong, it collapsed," Harry said quickly, shovelling another mouthful of food into his mouth and not making eye contact. He couldn’t even taste the fish; it was bland and slimy in his mouth.

"I’m sorry to hear that."

Harry shrugged. "I get by."

He flinched a little when Louis’ foot ran up the side of his calf gently, discreetly, and Harry tried to smile. Forcing the rest of his food down he leaned back in seat, feeling like he had rocks in the pit of his stomach. He tugged at his collar uncomfortably.

"Harry, I’m sorry," Louis said softly, watching him with wide, concerned eyes. "I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, no! It’s fine," Harry laughed loudly, wincing as he did. "I’m just a little hot, that’s all."

"Okay..." Louis said slowly, taking his foot away. He finished his food in silence, and Harry failed to calm his nerves. His eyes darted around the restaurant, suddenly sure that people could tell he wasn’t from the City, that he was lying. Guilt rose up his chest in a wave; after all Louis had done, after how kind he’d been, after...last night...it was all going too fast, and now Harry was repaying him by lying...he couldn’t _cope_  with this-

The walls were just beginning to close in on him when Louis announced he was done. Harry didn’t look at the bill when it came, sure it would lead to a full blown panic attack if he did.

Louis lead them out to his car, and pulled into the street slowly. The silence between them was deafening.

"Do you want to come back to mine for a bit?" Louis asked as they headed out of town and towards the river.

"Actually, I better head home," Harry said, staring out of the window. "I have...things to do...for work, I mean."

Louis was quiet for a long time. When he did mumble an ‘okay,’ Harry wanted to kick himself.

"Do you want me to drop you home?"

"No! No, no, it’s okay, I don’t mind the walk."

They pulled up to Louis’ house, and Harry pulled all of his boxes and bags out of the back seat, arranging them in his arms so he could carry them comfortably.

"Hey," Louis said quietly, taking a box from him so he could step closer. "I’m sorry, if I upset you, I was just curious. I shouldn’t have asked, it’s not my business. I don’t care, really. You’re not angry with me, are you?"

Harry’s shoulders slumped and he leaned to bump his forehead to Louis’, exhaling through his nose. "Of course not. I could never be....It’s just difficult to talk about sometimes."

"I understand," Louis said quickly. "I won’t ask again."

Harry felt himself calm a little, despite the fresh wave of guilt rolling through him. "I don’t deserve you. You’ve been too good to me already."

Louis huffed, eyes twinkling. "Are you sure you don’t want to come in with me?" He raised an eyebrow.

Harry glanced quickly across the bay, imagining his sparse, Louis-less flat waiting for him. He turned back, nodded and pressed a miniscule kiss to the corner of Louis’ mouth. "Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

Harry collapsed down on his mattress in his flat later than night, exhausted and arms aching from carrying everything back. He’d left Louis in bed, pressing him down into the sheets when he tried to get up insisting he drove Harry home. He’d protested bitterly when Harry said he had to work all week and Harry almost considered asking Bert for a day off so he could go and visit, but the prospect of having money was too much, and so Harry had left Louis with a lingering kiss and a promise of being at next week’s party. The guilt at lying still gnawed at his insides but he tried to his best to suppress it, unwilling to make Louis feel he was the one that had done something wrong again.

Light was fading earlier, and Harry noticed a slight chill in the air as he made the walk to Louis’ the following Friday night. He’d endured the week, going through the motions of each day, just waiting for it to be the weekend. Even though he’d eaten better with Louis than he could ever remember, it hadn’t been long until he felt the familiar pangs of hunger stab at his stomach and he was back to eating hard bread for breakfast, nothing like the sizzling bacon Louis had cooked for him. 

He’d spent a lot of time getting himself ready for Friday, washing and dressing in his new suit, smoothing down the lapels of the jackets and tying the shoes carefully. The fabric of the shirt was smooth and soft against his skin, the silk of the tie slipping through his fingers as he tied it into what he hoped was a neat knot. His hair was still unruly and Harry pushed his fingers through it, trying his best to tame it into submission. Only when he was satisfied that it would stay where he wanted it to did he leave, setting out into the fading light.

As usual, he was waved in by Liam, who smiled knowingly and muttered ‘second floor,’ to Harry as he passed by. Harry smiled his thanks and made a beeline for the staircase, not even stopping to grab a handful of food on his way past. His stomach was in knots anyway; after all, he’d been waiting seven days to see Louis again. Taking the stairs two at a time and then slowing to wander into the room, Harry looked around casually. He weaved his way in and out of the guests, peering over heads and shoulders for any sign of him.

A familiar laugh reached his ears, and Harry’s head snapped around. He listened intently, turning back into the throng of people to follow the sound. Closer, and the laugh was louder. Harry dodged round a particularly large group of people- and there he was.

Desire curled low in his belly at the sight of Louis, hair perfectly slicked back into a quiff, sleeves of his suit pushed halfway up his forearms exposing that perfect skin that Harry hadn’t been able to touch for a whole week. He too was wearing the suit he’d bought last Saturday, and Harry’s eyes roved over him, relishing in the way the suit flattered him, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist, trousers clinging to his thighs like a second skin. Harry swallowed.

When he’d found his feet again he shuffled forward, suddenly shy. Louis was talking to a slim, dark haired man, and Harry hovered near his shoulder. Before he could decide whether to interrupt or not, Louis spotted him.

"There you are!" Louis said, pulling Harry into the conversation and jovially clapping him on the shoulder. "I was wondering when you were going to get here!" The hand ran down his arm, resting on his elbow gently. To anyone else the gesture looked friendly, but to Harry the touch was fire, burning through his suit and into his skin.

"Good evening," he said politely, nodding his head at Louis and then at the other man, who offered him a polite smile.

"Harry," Louis said. "This is one of my business partners and my friend, Zayn Malik." He gave Harry a pointed look. Recognition clicked in Harry’s brain, putting a face to the name of the man Liam was involved with.

"Ah, yes, good to meet you," Harry said, stretching out a hand boldly. Zayn shook it.

"And Zayn, this is my good friend Harry Styles. He’s new in town," Louis was saying as they shook.

"Pleasure," Zayn said in a quiet voice, and Harry instantly took a liking to him. He seemed different to all the other people that were usually at the parties; calm, collected, like nothing would faze him. The outfit he wore screamed wealth and riches but he carried it effortlessly, like he was born to wear such clothes.

"Good, that’s the introductions done. Now, Zayn, if you’ll excuse us, I have some business proposals I promised I’d show Harry."

Zayn rolled his eyes, smiling at them even as Louis began backing away. "For God’s sake, Louis, this is a party! Have a night off sometime, yeah?" Nonetheless he tipped his glass at them in farewell, and disappeared into the crowd.

Louis lead Harry out of the room, nodding to guests on the way past and calling a few greetings while Harry stayed behind him trying not to draw attention to himself. With a quick glance around to check the hallway was deserted, Louis pulled Harry into an empty room and shut the door behind them. Harry only had enough time to notice that the room seemed to be a guest bedroom, before Louis was pushing him back against the door with his body, slipping a thigh between his knees and grinding up slowly. Harry gasped, body going slack, and gripped Louis’ neck in one hand, reaching around to grasp a handful of Louis’ arse in the other.

"You look so good," Louis babbled, pressing kisses down the side of Harry’s neck. "Knew you’d look amazing in that, been waiting all week to see."

Harry pulled on Louis' neck, bending down slightly to fit their mouths together and licking at Louis’ lips for entrance, urgent and desperate. Louis let him in, and Harry tasted alcohol and the lingering taste of mint toothpaste and something else, something he couldn’t get enough of. Louis little panting breaths went straight to Harry’s cock, stiffening in his trousers, and he pulled one of Louis’ hands out of his hair and brought it to his groin, letting Louis feel how hard he was for him. Louis pressed down; palming him firmly and Harry dropped his head to his shoulder, his own breaths leaving him in heaving gasps. He nosed at Louis' neck, breathing in the scent of expensive cologne and leaned into his body, revelling in the heady mix of the smell of Louis and the feel of his palm stroking him through the material of his trousers.

"Missed you," he whimpered, clutching at Louis’ shoulders as his knees turned shaky.

"God, I missed you too," Louis countered, kissing the shell of Harry’s ear. "Wanted you here with me."

Harry reached down between them, aiming for Louis’ waistband and but his hand was batted away.

"Lou-"

"No," Louis said softly. He dropped to his knees. "Let me do this."

The sound of Harry’s zip being pulled down seemed so loud in the empty room before them. His trousers and underwear were shoved to his knees and then there was blissful, incredible heat enveloping his cock. Harry cried out, head knocking back into the wooden door as Louis gripped the base with one hand and sucked with the other, swirling his tongue around the head before swallowing it down, looking up at Harry through his eyelashes. Harry’s hands tangled themselves into Louis’ perfectly styled hair and mussed it up, stroking through the short strands, and he felt Louis’ own hand slide around his thigh, kneading at the flesh there.

All too soon, heat gathered low in his stomach. He tugged on Louis’ hair to warn him but Louis kept going, tongue flat as he tried to take as much as he could in. He held Harry’s hips firmly, stopping him from pushing too far, and soon Harry felt himself hit the back of Louis’ throat. Louis moaned filthily, sending vibrations shooting up Harry’s cock and then he was coming, shooting down Louis throat. He watched as Louis took it all in his mouth, and when Harry was done Louis looked up and swallowed obviously, winking.

Harry dropped to his knees, kissing Louis thoroughly, not caring where he’d just had his mouth.

"Do you need...I can..." he mumbled incoherently, but Louis stopped him, resting their foreheads together.

"I’m okay," he assured Harry. "That was for you. I can wait."

"Thank you," was all Harry could say, blushing when Louis laughed at him.

Suddenly there was hard knock on the door and they sprang apart, jumping to their feet. Harry pulled up his trousers and Louis tried his best to sort out his hair, then made sure Harry was out of sight before opening the door a crack.

"Oh," Harry saw him relax. "Niall." Harry breathed his own sigh of relief.

"Finished yet?" Niall said, obvious mirth in his voice. "The guests are beginning to wonder where you are, Lou. Best get back out there, yeah?"

"Yeah ‘course, just coming," Louis said, before shutting the door again. He pulled Harry close and pressed a kiss to his mouth. "Will you stay the night again?" Harry nodded eagerly. "Good. I have to go mingle but I’ll see you when everyone’s gone? On the balcony?"

"Okay."

Louis pecked his lips once more, before slipping out of the room. Harry cracked the door open after him to watch him melt back into the crowd like he’d never been away, and after a minute he followed. If Niall winked at him slyly on his way past, Harry ignored him.

 

*****

 

Three glasses of wine later, Harry was feeling very happy with the world. He probably wouldn’t have been that tipsy if he’d had something to eat to line his stomach, but he’d only managed to nab a couple of cucumber sandwiches from the trays going round. Now he was pleasantly warm and content to wander around the party alone between the first and second floors, moving from listening to the band to talking to Niall and occasionally scoping out Louis, before starting over again. When the band finished one set Harry meandered down to the first floor. Perhaps he’d find Liam...maybe he would let him go to the kitchens.

Harry reached the bottom of the staircase, holding onto the banister for support. But the last stair seemed to mysteriously disappear from underneath him, and he felt himself topple forwards, the red carpet getting closer and closer to his face.

"Hey, there, steady now," a voice said, grabbing his arm with surprising strength and setting him back on his feet. "How much have you had to drink, love?"

Harry squinted, trying to focus in on the woman. Were there two of her? Twins? Harry blinked and his vision sharpened. Just one woman stood in front of him, still holding on his bicep.

"Thanks," He managed to get out without too much difficulty. "Not much, I don’t think."

"That’s what they all say. Come with me, let’s go and get some air, shall we sweetheart?"

"Mm’kay."

The lady steered Harry to the entrance of the house, leading him outside and propping him against one of the pillars that stood either side of the doors.

"Are you feeling okay?" Her voice came gently. "Should I go and get help?"

"No, no," Harry could feel his head clearing little by little with each breath he took of the clean, cold air. "I’m feeling a little better."

He looked at her, focusing enough to take in her red wavy hair that fell past her shoulders, just tickling the top of the white fur stole she had wrapped around her. The floor length light grey satin dress she wore spoke of high class elegance and grace, falling down her slender body like a waterfall, smooth and uninterrupted. She must have been a few years older than Harry, perhaps in her mid thirties.

"Thanks for...that," Harry said, embarrassed at making a fool of himself in front of such a well-mannered lady.

"No problem. Sometimes it can get a little hot in there with all the people. I’m Katie, by the way." She held out a hand, heavy with rings and bracelets.

"Harry," Harry shook it. Katie rooted around in her bag, picking out a packet of cigarettes and a packet of matches. When Harry declined one she shrugged, holding one between her red lipsticked mouth and striking a match.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Harry said to make conversation.

Katie glanced over at him. "Where have you been all night?" When Harry looked confused she laughed, a husky chuckle that belied years of smoking. "I’m in the band. I’m their singer," she explained, taking a long drag of her cigarette. She saw Harry staring at the smoke and nodded knowingly. ‘I know, a singer who smokes twenty a day. Scandalous! Who gives a shit what people think, eh? My lungs still work fine." She winked. Harry decided he liked her.

"I’m sorry I haven’t seen you."

"No matter," Katie shrugged slightly, blew smoke in Harry’s face. "I’m back on in twenty minutes; you should come and see us play." She looked at him sidelong. "Bring your fiancée too."

"Oh," Harry snorted, "I didn’t bring anyone tonight."

"Hmm, thought not," she smiled widely when Harry gave her a confused look. "Correct me if I’m wrong, sweetie, but you’re not like the other boys here are you. You’re on that side aren’t you."

Harry stared at her. She...she couldn’t know, could she? There was no way; Harry looked the part, he’d been around people dressed the same as him all evening...she couldn’t know he was from the Village, could she?

"What do you mean?" His throat felt tight.

"I mean," Katie leaned in closer. "That you’re more likely to fall for our lovely host himself than you are for a lady like me."

"Oh," And even though no one should know that either, Harry couldn’t help but be a little relieved. "Oh, right...erm..."

"Don’t worry yourself, darling. I would never tell."

"...Then, yes, I suppose so."

"I knew it. I can always tell," She took one last puff then dropped her cigarette on the ground, crushing the butt under one silver heel. "I'd better go and get ready again. It was lovely to meet you, Harry, don’t drink too much more tonight. I don’t want to have to rescue you again."

"I won't, thank you."

Harry watched her go, heeding her warning and vowing not to drink anymore that night. After a minute or two he followed her back in, heading straight for a tray of food a waiter carried. He smiled apologetically as he filled his hands, and then stood at the side of the room, watching Katie set the band up as he ate.

"Hungry again?" Niall’s voice came. He leaned against the wall next to Harry, stealing a carrot stick from his hand. "Swear all I ever see you do it eat. Well, that and other things with-"

"Niall!"

"What?" Niall tried to look innocent, but his eyes twinkled. "All right, all right, I won’t tease. Much. But," He lowered his voice, suddenly serious, and leaned in slightly, "You should know, I haven’t see Lou this happy in a long time. This past week he nearly drove me and Liam mad talking about you. Harry this, Harry that...’Oh, next week I’ll take Harry to the park!’"he imitated, sounding scarily like Louis. Harry felt his cheeks heat and he looked down, squirming a little. "Have you told him about you, yet?"

Harry shook his head. "I know, and I want to but I don't really know how."

"You need to tell him, mate. And soon, before you both get too far into this. I don't want to see him hurt. You either, I like you. You're good for him."

"I think...I think he’s good for me too."

"Good. Tell him," Niall said. His eyes watched someone cross the room and Harry followed his line of sight, seeing Liam walk purposefully through the crowd. He was without his clipboard, but Harry could see pen still tucked into one hand, poised for his next task.

"If you don't, you'll end up like them. Look over there," Niall said, nodding his head in the other direction. Harry looked and saw Zayn, who under the pretence of carrying on conversation with a few people was watching Liam’s every move. Liam stopped a waiter to ask a question and Zayn saw him do it. He moved to the band, presumably to ask if they were ready, and Zayn’s dark eyes followed him. When Liam was on his way out of the room, they watched as he brushed past Zayn, arm barely touching his back. Harry saw Zayn swallow thickly, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

"Be grateful you and Louis aren’t like them," Niall muttered darkly. "It’s hell for both of them."

"But...they love each other a lot, right? Why can’t they be together, even if they hide it, like..."

"Like you and Louis?" Niall smirked fractionally. "Nah, s’more complicated."

"Because of his wife?"

"Exactly. Look." Harry watched as a pretty brunette woman with a cocktail in hand joined Zayn, looping her arm through his and kissing him on the cheek. "Sure, Zayn and Liam love each other, but there’s nothing they can do. They can’t ever be together, not properly. And it kills them both. I wish I could do something, but they’re both so far into this I’m not sure what to do. Liam told me the other day he asked Zayn to run away with him, but Zayn won’t."

"Why? Couldn’t they just disappear, start fresh somewhere? That’s what I would do, I think."

"Yeah, but think about what that would mean, though. Liam is safe; he knows Louis and I will keep his secret and he’ll always have a job here...but for Zayn, well, if word got out about him, even if Liam’s name was never mentioned, his business, his marriage, his whole empire, would all fall through. And his wife’s from a wealthy family. They could destroy him like that." Niall snapped his fingers.

"I didn’t realize."

"Mmn," Niall agreed and they both fell silent, watching as Zayn laughed and joked with his wife but all the while searched the place, eyes darting over the room to find Liam.

"Oh, band’s starting," Niall said, nodding to where Katie stood at the microphone, beaming out at the partygoers. The music started, and her rich, velvety voice floated across the room as the band accompanied her.

Later, when Harry stood on the balcony waiting for Louis, he saw Zayn pull Liam into the shadows by the front door, out of sight of the cars but in plain view of Harry, and stroke a finger down his cheek softly as they whispered together, nodding and touching their foreheads briefly. Then Zayn was turning away and climbing into a car with his wife, leaving Liam stood alone in the shadows.

That night in bed Harry held Louis tighter to him, clutching him close and making sure every part of him was touching Louis in some way. He pulled Louis’ body on top of him and almost begged for him, only allowing himself to breathe when Louis was inside him and they were moving together. Louis smelt like home, and Harry couldn’t get enough of his mouth, of his hands, of his body. He let Louis suck a claiming mark into his neck to prove to himself that they were here, they were together, and when they cried out almost simultaneously, Harry’s spine arching off the bed and Louis’ arms around him, his chest ached fiercely with the desire to keep himself and Louis from ever, ever, becoming like Liam and Zayn.

 

 

*****

 

 

The next morning, they stayed in bed for as long as possible. Louis lay on Harry’s chest and drew circles with his finger on Harry’s abdomen, humming absent-mindedly. The stubble on his jaw was scratchy and made Harry shiver whenever he moved or spoke or tilted his head around to kiss him. They drifted in and out of sleep until the sun was high in the sky, and then heard the first movements of the staff beginning to arrive.

A knock at the door had them both freezing, but Liam sailed in, shutting it quickly behind him. He carried a large tray with him and in between informing Louis that he had already cancelled his meetings for that day and handing him his mail he set down the tray of breakfast on the end of the bed. Harry noticed Liam didn’t look at the two of them in bed together for too long and immediately felt guilty, pulling the sheets up and over Louis and himself.

Louis looked at him strangely, but once he had taken a look at Liam, he too was leaning over to rearrange the dislodged pillows from the night before, thanking Liam profusely for his efforts. Liam smiled, though it didn’t meet his tired eyes, and told them that even though he’d asked the cleaners not to come in, they might want to lock the door behind him. He’d left then, and Harry had been so upset it had taken Louis kissing him senseless and constantly reassuring him that they’d try work something out for Liam before he'd cheered up again.

With the sun beaming down on them, Louis lead Harry out to his own personal pool in the back garden. It was surrounded by tall hedges that blocked them off from the view of the house and from any neighbours. They spread their towels out on the sunbeds surrounding the pool, and lay there for the majority of the day, only leaving to get food or drinks. Harry had pulled Louis under the water, pressing their lips together and releasing their air in a flurry of bubbles, kissing until their lungs were screaming in protest before they surfaced for air.

In between swims they lay on the sunbeds, Harry reading a book he’d found in Louis’ room while Louis sunbathed, stroking a hand through Harry’s hair idly. If Harry had thought Louis was hot fully clothed, it was nothing compared to him in his swimming shorts, dripping with water, hair falling into his eyes. Harry had pushed Louis down right there at the edge of the pool and ridden him brazenly, outside in full daylight, while Louis pushed Harry’s wet hair out of his face and pulled him down to kiss him, panting his name against his lips like a prayer.

 

*****

 

That was Harry’s life now.

By day he worked at the bakery, filling orders and serving customers and chatting occasionally to Bert, wearing his old scruffy clothes he’d worn for the past few years. By night, he dressed himself up in the clothes Louis had bought him, smart trousers and shirts and braces, and walked to Louis’ house to have dinner. He always went late in the day, when the staff had gone home and only Liam and Niall lingered around the house, and left in the early hours of the morning, hurrying back to his flat to get a few hours sleep before work. When the nights drew in further and there was a noticeable chill in the air, Louis became more and more insistent that he drove Harry home every night. He frowned when Harry continually refused, and the next night Harry showed up there was a coat waiting for him. Thick and warm and made of wool, it fell to his knees, and Louis was happier to let him out into the night air then; pulling his collar up for him to protect against the winds.

Harry put on weight, filling out so his ribs weren’t as visible and his cheeks not as sunken. In bed Louis kissed over him, finding new bits of flesh to suck marks into. He seemed to love Harry’s thighs the most, licking and biting gently at the inside of them, gripping them and leaving finger shaped bruises when Harry rode him slowly. When Louis caught him standing in front of his mirror one evening examining his body curiously, turning this way and that, running a hand over his less-concave stomach and noticing the smaller gap between his thighs, Louis had pounced on him, fucking him right there in front of the mirror while they both watched themselves. Curled up next to Louis, Harry couldn’t remember the last time he was this content, burrowed under the duvet, warm and sated and well fed, and wondered how he ever got to be this lucky.

The nights grew colder and colder, and every Friday night like clockwork Harry pulled on his suit (now with the new addition of his coat) and crossed over the bridge. The cold weather didn’t stop the partygoers leaving their own warm homes, and now they turned up with their own thick coats, hats, and gloves lined with fur. Fires were lit in every room and the doors to the balcony upstairs were shut to contain the warmth.

It heralded the approach of Christmas, and Harry was desperately saving everything he could to buy Louis a gift. It wouldn’t be much, but Harry needed to get something to say thank you to Louis for everything he’d done for him, he just didn’t know what to get yet. Louis had already asked Harry to spend Christmas with him, and Harry had quickly accepted, eager to spend a Christmas in someone else’s company for once. It made him worry more about telling Louis about him, about who he really was. After being together for a couple of months, Louis really ought to know. It was just how to tell him that was going to be the difficult part.

A week before Christmas would be Louis’ last party of the season, and it was to be a masquerade ball. Louis excitedly presented Harry with a formal invitation when he next saw him, and Harry’s heart fell as he read it. There would be no way he could afford to buy a mask and get Louis a gift as well.

Louis must have seen his smile falter. "What’s wrong, love?" he asked, wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist. "You can make it, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Harry was quick to reassure him. "I just..."

"Because I’d really like you to wear this..." Louis continued, bringing his other arm from behind his back and holding up an object in front of Harry’s nose. Harry took it from him, mouth falling open as he looked over the mask. It was painted black and engraved with intricate patterns and swirls of silver. The outside was lined with a thin black ribbon that joined at the sides and fell to form the ties that would join at the back of his head. Harry swallowed, turning it over and over reverently in his hands.

"Do you like it? I can take it back if you don’t-oh," Louis was cut off by Harry yanking him forwards by the neck, pressing their mouths together and kissing him fervently.

"I love it," Harry breathed, looking at the mask he held in his outstretched hand as Louis began kissing across his cheek. "Thank you."

 

*****

 

Masquerade night came around. It was a miserable December evening, and Harry watched the rain pour down from the bakery shop window as it got closer and closer to closing time. Throughout the day people had ducked into the shop just to get out of the rain for a few minutes; some didn’t even buy anything from them, simply nodded their thanks and went on their way.

"It’s going to be bad tonight, I reckon," Bert said from where he was stood next to Harry, wiping down the counter with an old cloth. "I wouldn’t try and go anywhere tonight."

"I have to go visit a friend," Harry replied, resting his chin on his crossed arms as he watched the weather. "Gotta walk in this."

"Rather you than me, son."

"Do we have an umbrella I can borrow?" Harry asked, bending down to look under the counter. He huffed when his searches came up empty, finding one lone glove a customer had left behind months ago and never come back for.

"Let me check, hang on," Bert disappeared into the back. Harry picked up the cloth he had abandoned and finished his work, brushing crumbs onto the floor that would be swept up when they closed in ten minutes. He briefly wondered if there was any point keeping the shop open. If he left now it would give him an extra few minutes to get ready for Louis.

The bell above the door jingled, and Harry looked up disinterestedly, expecting it to be another poor sod trying to get out of the rain for a few minutes. He smiled politely, then went back to what he was doing.

"Harry?" A female voice said.

Harry head snapped up again. The woman pushed her hood off of her head and shook her hair out. Long red curls bounced around her face.

"Katie," Harry said, forcing a smile past the pounding in his ears. "Hi."

Katie stepped closer, dripping water over the floor as she did. "I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon. How are you, dear?"

"F-fine. Thank you," Harry replied quietly. He forced his fingers to relax and drop the cloth onto the counter.

"Good. I’m just on my way through to get ready for Mr. Tomlinson’s party; he’s asked us to perform again. There’s a shortcut through here that leads to the City, but I thought I’d stop and get out of this dreadful rain." She smiled warmly. "What are you doing over here?"

"Oh, I, I’m..." Harry tailed off uselessly. He watched, throat tight, as Katie looked over the old, patchy clothes he wore, the holey jumper, the apron tied around his waist and the cloth in front of him. Her smile faltered.

"Oh, do you...do you work here?" She looked around the shop before settling back on Harry.

Harry closed his eyes and nodded.

"Oh, do you just come over here to help out, or...? Oh." Harry wanted to crawl under the counter. "Harry...do you live in the Village? Is this where you’re from?"

There was no point denying it. "Yeah," Harry rasped, nodding jerkily.

Katie’s face was impassive for a moment, but then she grinned again, showing off her pearly teeth. "Well that’s great! Mr. Tomlinson must think very highly of you if he’s invited you to one of his parties. I always knew he was a very accepting man."

"Haha," Harry said humourlessly, pulling his own lips back in what must have been a terrifying imitation of a smile. "I think so, too."

Katie reached over the counter to pat him on the shoulder. "Well, dear, let me tell you. A wonderful young man like you should always be at the best parties." She winked. "Shall I see you later tonight? It’s the big masquerade ball; I’ve been dying to play it."

"I’ll be there."

"I’m glad. Take care of yourself, sweetheart." She flashed him one more smile, pulled up her hood then hurried out, the bell above the door ringing in her wake.

"Who was that?" Bert came back, holding a small black umbrella in his hands. "I heard the door go."

"No-one," Harry said quickly, heaving in a breath and letting it go slowly. "Just someone looking for shelter."

"Oh. Well, there you go," Bert handed the umbrella to him. "I don’t know how much good it’s going to be, but at least it’ll keep a bit of the rain off."

"Thank you." Harry tested it in his hands. It was light and flimsy, and even when it was unopened Harry could see a hole in one side. It would have to do, though.

"Ah well," Bert crossed the shop floor to turn the sign on the door from ‘open’ to ‘closed’. "Off you go. Go and see that friend you’ve been itching to see all day." Bert patted him on the back as he passed by him.

"Thanks, Bert," Harry said as he untied the strings of his apron and hung it up. "See you Monday."

Harry left the shop, testing the umbrella on his way home. Apart from the hole in the corner, he thought it would hold enough for him to get across to Louis . He’d stay at his house tonight and most of the weekend; hopefully by then the weather would have improved.

Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about having been found out by Katie. As it was, only Niall knew about him, and Harry knew he could trust him with anything. Harry didn’t know Katie all that well. There was no guarantee that she wouldn’t do something or say something to give him away, though she didn’t seem the type to do that. She knew about Harry being...like he was, and she hadn’t given that away. Hopefully she’d do the same with this. It was an unsettling feeling, knowing a virtual stranger knew two of Harry’s biggest secrets.

He dried off when he got in and sat down on his mattress, looking at his suit hanging up and the mask that sat next to it on a chair. Perhaps he shouldn’t even go tonight; maybe he shouldn’t risk it. He’d pushed his luck enough with Louis and pretending he could ever be part of his world, maybe Katie finding out was a sign for him to stop.

The thought of Louis, though, milling around and waiting for him to get there, wanting to see Harry in his mask, was enough to have Harry pulling the suit on, placing the mask carefully in the inside pocket of his jacket. Before he could change his mind he slipped on his shoes and his coat and picked up the umbrella before shutting the flat door behind him. The closer he got to Louis’ the more the sense of dread grew in his stomach, until he was nothing but a mass of nerves.

The rain had got heavier by the time he arrived, soaking the hems of his trousers as he splashed through the growing puddles. The usually calm and still river was rushing under the bridge he crossed, a strong current leading out into the ocean and little waves that crashed agasint the riverbanks. It looked like there was a storm coming.

He paused when he got to the front doors of Louis’ house, standing under shelter to put down the umbrella and fumble with the ribbon of the mask. It covered most of his forehead down to the end of his nose, and Harry blinked a couple of times when he’d tied the ribbons securely, adapting to looking out of the eyeholes.

He passed Liam, who wore a plain white mask and looked a little pissed off at not being able to recognise anybody. He sighed in relief when he saw Harry, smiling in greeting and Harry nodded back.

"First floor, by the band," Liam muttered as he passed by, and Harry smiled his thanks.

After handing off his coat to a waiter, the first thing Harry did was grab a drink to soothe his nerves a little. He was hungry from not eating, but he needed to find Louis, to reassure himself that everything was okay. With a nod to Niall, who wore his own deep blue mask, Harry headed for the band stage, Harry found Louis easily, talking to the bass player next to one of the open fires, and Harry reveled in the warmth, thawing his freezing hands. He hovered until there was a natural lull in their conversation, and then tapped Louis on the shoulder.

"Harry!" Louis said loudly, "Good to see you old friend!" He gripped Harry’s hand as they shook, but his touch was gentle at the same time and his eyes sparkled. Harry gulped at the mask Louis wore, black like his but with touches of white that accentuated his icy blue eyes. Harry’s worry melted on seeing him and he beamed. The bass player made his excuses and left, and Louis leaned in close to Harry’s ear.

"You look amazing," he murmured. "I knew it would suit you."

"Thanks. You, too," Harry whispered back, breathing Louis in. It felt like ages had passed since he’d last seen him, even though he’d been curled up in bed with him in the early hours of that very morning.

Just then the music began playing, and Katie stepped onto the stage, dressed in a long black gown and wearing her own matching glittering mask. She began to sing in her lovely, velvety voice about Christmastime, and there was light smattering of applause as she began. A couple of times Harry saw her glance over to himself and Louis and he looked away awkwardly, knocking back the rest of his champagne. They stood and listened to her for a couple of songs, with a constant stream of people that came over to greet Louis. Some even nodded to Harry as well.

Waiters passed them and Harry picked at the food, which had been altered with accordance to the season. Now all the canapés handed around were warm; bites of seasoned chicken and sausage, small slices of warm soft bread spread with butter. The refreshing summer cocktails had been replaced with spiced wine, warming and comforting, and Louis picked two glasses off a passing tray, handing one to Harry and clinking them together. When another song finished, signalling the end of the first set, they applauded as Katie bowed and then Louis tugged on Harry’s sleeve, leading him away from the stage and out into the hallway with a nod at Niall.

Harry followed him up to the second floor and through the crowd there to the balcony doors. He glanced around carefully as Louis unlocked them, then opened one and slipped out. Harry followed, immediately shivering at the cold air. The rain had stopped, thankfully, but it was still damp and there were small puddles on the concrete floor of the balcony.

"Jesus, Lou, it’s freezing," Harry grumbled, moving closer to him for warmth. "Why couldn’t we go to your room?"

"Shh," Louis rolled his eyes, "Stop whining." He grinned and pulled Harry’s glass from him, setting it down on the wall with his own. He reached up and untied Harry’s mask, removing it from his face and setting down on the wall, then did the same with his own. Harry went willingly when he was manhandled against Louis’ body and kissed thoroughly. He wrapped his arms around Louis’ shoulders and grinned into his mouth.

"Missed you," he said around Louis’ lips, and felt Louis smile.

"You were only here a few hours ago," Louis replied, voice muffled.

"Doesn’t matter."

Things were beginning to get a little heated when Louis’ hand began pulling Harry’s shirt out his waistband, but suddenly the door handle behind them rattled. They split quickly, wiping their lips on their sleeves and rearranging their clothes. Harry had just pushed Louis’ hair back from his forehead when the door opened and Katie stepped out with a pack of cigarettes in her hand. There was brief burst of noise and laughter when the door was opened that was silenced when it clicked shut behind her.

"Oh," she stopped, taking a step back in surprise and looking between the two of them. "I’m so sorry, I was just..." she gestured to her cigarettes.

"Don’t worry, Miss Matthews, it’s perfectly fine," Louis said smoothly, perfectly polite. "Mr Styles and I were just talking."

Katie smiled knowingly. "Of course. Thank you for inviting us to your lovely party, Mr Tomlinson, and it’s lovely to see you again Harry."

Louis frowned slightly, turning to Harry. "Oh, do you know each other?"

"We’ve met once or twice, yeah," Harry said offhandedly. "Well, we better leave you to your cigarettes, hadn’t we Lou- Mr Tomlinson?" Harry strode to the door. That foreboding feeling was back in his stomach again, telling him to separate these two as quickly as possible. "Mr Tomlinson?" He said, gesturing to the door. "After you."

Louis looked at him strangely. "Yes...of course." He moved over to Harry and made to turn the door handle.

"If I may, Mr Tomlinson," Katie said, and Harry nearly groaned. "Can I just tell you how wonderful it is to see a young man like yourself not subscribing to these ridiculous views of class hierarchy. Really, it’s so refreshing to see."

"Erm, thank you?" Louis said, clearly confused.

"Excellent, let’s go." Harry said, nodding at Louis’ hand on the door handle.

"Hang on, Harry. What’s got into you?" Louis hissed, before turning back to Katie. "Forgive me, Miss Matthews, but I’m a little confused as to what you mean."

"Oh, it’s nothing really, I’m just so pleased that social status doesn’t matter to you, and get on so well with Harry, what with him being from the South Village and all."

Harry stared, frozen, at the side of Louis’ face. Louis still had a polite smile etched into his features.

"I think you must be confusing Mr Styles with someone else," Louis’ voice had turned dangerously calm. "Mr Styles is from the North City, he has always lived here."

"Oh, no. I can assure you, I met Harry just today in the little shop he works in-" Katie clapped a hand over her mouth suddenly, eyes wide. She stared at Harry. "Oh no," She breathed, "He doesn’t...you haven’t... oh, Harry, I’m so sorry."

Harry shook his head, biting his lip fiercely. Louis looked at him, eyes widening when he saw Harry’s expression.

"I think I’d better go," Katie said, squeezing past them to let herself out of the door. She gave Harry one last beseeching look. "Harry, darling-"

"Don’t," Harry snapped, and she nodded, head bowed low, before disappearing back into the noise of the party. Harry moved away from Louis to the far side of the balcony, not able to deal with him staring at Harry like that.

"Harry," Louis said, and Harry shivered. "What does she mean? You’re not..." He laughed dismissively and it jolted through Harry’s body. "No, how could she think you’re from the South Village? Honestly."

Harry was silent.

"I mean, that’s almost an insult, especially if you've lived here all your life!" Louis laughed, coming to stand next to Harry and looking over the river with him.

"Louis-"

"Like you could ever be from a place like that-"

"Louis!" Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel cold panic beginning to rise up in him, icy in his bloodstream. He felt Louis turn to face him, and heard the moment his shoe hit the concrete as Louis took a step away.

"No..." Louis breathed. "You’re not..."

"I’m sorry, I-"

"No, no you’re not." Louis moaned. "Please, Harry, tell me you didn't lie to me."

Harry took a shaky breath, fighting back the lump rising in his throat. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to hold himself together.

"I tried to tell you, I did-" He said through chattering teeth.

"Tell me, now. The truth," Louis demanded, and Harry winced. "Where are you from?"

"Lou-"

"Tell me!"

Harry paused for a minute, then opened his eyes and pointed directly across the river to his own flat.

"Oh god, no." Louis took another step away from him.

"I’m sorry, I tried to tell you," Harry begged, following him a step.

Louis put a hand out to stop him coming any further. His eyes blazed. "You tried? Well, you clearly didn’t try very fucking hard! When?!"

"It was the first time, the first time we were on the balcony," Harry rushed. "I was trying to tell you then but then you kissed me and I just... didn’t."

"You just didn’t?!" Louis yelled and Harry winced, shrinking back in on himself. "What, you didn’t think I should know, like that isn’t an important detail? Jesus!" He ran a hand through his hair.

"But...didn’t you notice?" Harry asked helplessly. "Didn’t you see? I turn up at yours, too skinny, greasy hair, a suit that didn't fit me properly that I wore three times in a row...Didn’t you suspect something?"

"I just thought, stupidly, that you were going through a tough time! That you were hard up for money! It all makes sense now, though! You just came here to take advantage!"

"What? No!" Harry shook his head frantically. "It was never like that, I swear!"

"All that money I spent on you! Clothes, dinners...I kept asking you back here again and again. Fuck, how did you even get in here in the first place?"

"It was...You remember the cake order you put in at the little bakery in the Village months ago? I delivered it."

"What, and you just decided to stay? Like you had the right to be here? You got past Niall and Liam and just helped yourself to everything, didn't you? Bet you loved it." he sneered. "Free meal, good night, bet you were so pleased with yourself."

"God, no! Louis listen to me!"

"And- oh," Louis suddenly looked straight at him, blue eyes devastating. "Were you just sleeping with me to get at all that, too?"

It felt like Louis had punched the breath out of him. "No," Harry said firmly. "I never, ever-"

"You were, weren’t you. Get a leg over and use me, get a free bed out of it."

"Louis-" Harry’s voice cracked. His vision blurred before his eyes. "No." He reached for him, but Louis dodged out of his way.

"Get your filthy hands away from me. Don’t even think about touching me. You're nothing but a fucking liar," he hissed. "I can’t do this, you can’t be here anymore." Louis strode to the door. He opened it, poked his head in and yelled Niall’s name at the top of his lungs. The chatter from inside faltered for a bit, and Harry heard a couple of people politely ask if there was something wrong. Louis didn’t reply, and seconds later Niall jogged out onto the balcony. He looked between Louis’ seething expression and Harry’s trembling bottom lip.

"Yes, boss?" he asked curiously.

"Get him out of here," Louis spat, flicking at hand at Harry.

Niall frowned, half-smiling. "What? Louis-"

"Get him out!"

Niall’s face fell, and he nodded solemnly, grabbing Harry’s bicep and steering him to the door with surprising strength.

"Niall, wait, please, I have to explain," Harry struggled against his grip and dug his heels into the floor. Niall was stronger, though, pushing him towards the doors. "Louis! You need to let me explain, I meant to tell you I just didn’t know how! Louis!"

"Come on, mate, don’t make a scene," Niall said into his ear, sounding apologetic.

"No, no, no, wait," Harry pleaded, peering over Niall’s shoulder. "Two minutes, please, Louis!"

But Louis had his back to him, still as a statue as he looked out over the river and Harry was pulled away. Harry slumped into Niall then, letting him be half-carried out through the room of people staring at him, down the stairs and into the ground floor room, where everyone stopped talking and turned to watch Niall drag him to the front door.

"I’m sorry," Niall said, propping Harry against one of the pillars outside the front door. "I have to do what he tells me. What happened? Did he find out? Can I help?"

Harry shook his head dismally, then stood himself upright and began walking down the road, forgoing his coat and umbrella. He knew the night was cold, but he couldn’t feel it. His head swam, and he took small shaky steps and tried to remember the way home. It began raining again half way home, but Harry paid it no attention. He collapsed onto his mattress, soaking, and lay there in his suit staring at the ceiling, listening to the howling wind.

 

*****

 

The next morning Harry dressed in his own clothes, not caring that he looked like an urchin of sorts, and walked to Louis house, oblivious to any attention his appearance brought him. People stopped and stared, some even pointed at him but Harry strode on, all the way through the town and up the long winding driveway to Louis’ front door. He knocked once, and when there was no reply he knocked harder.

Liam opened the door a crack. “Harry,” he greeted, not sounding at all surprised to him or taken aback by Harry’s appearance. Louis must have told him and Niall the full story.

“Is Louis here?” Harry asked, not bothering with niceties. “Can I see him, please?”

To his credit, Liam actually looked remorseful. He pulled the door open and stepped out, closing it behind him. “Look, Harry, it’s probably best you aren’t here. Louis...isn’t good, at the moment. He’s asked that we leave him alone.”

“Please,” Harry blurted. “Please, I-“

“Harry,” Liam said firmly. “He doesn’t want to see you.”

Harry bit his lip. “Liam, please.”

“I’m sorry, mate. Just...go back to the Village, yeah?”

“Back to where I belong, right? Yeah, okay,” Harry shook his head grimly, and turned his back on Liam. On his way back down the drive he turned in time to see someone duck out of sight of the window, curtains rippling in their wake.

He tried every day that next week, leaving work and crossing the bridge, even though by the time he got there he was shivering with cold and more often than not his toes would be numb from walking so far in his flimsy shoes. Every time it was to no avail, either Niall or Liam would turn him away apologetically, informing him that Louis wanted nothing to do with him, and could he please stop coming over?

So Harry reverted back to his old life. He woke up every morning and stumbled through the day, the void in him increasing with every passing hour. He didn’t bother trying to go to the first party of the season, and instead stood, shivering on his tiny balcony and chewing on stale crackers, as nine o’clock came that Friday night and Louis’ house lit up with lights and music and people. Harry ached to be back there, to be chatting with Niall by a fire or kissing Louis in one of the back rooms. He cursed himself vehemently for ever trying to keep who he was a secret. If he’d been honest, maybe none of this would ever have happened. But, he told himself in a vain attempt at self-assurance, he’d rather have kept the secret and at least pretended he could ever be worthy of someone like Louis for a short time, than to have been honest with him from the start and laughed out of there before he had a chance to prove himself.

He only allowed himself to cry once, and that was when he thought he saw a figure across the river, standing on his own balcony and looking out across to Harry. But the shape was gone with the wind rustling through the trees, and Harry wiped his eyes fiercely and promised himself no more. He stopped going across the bridge, tucked the suit away somewhere he didn’t have to look at it and resigned himself to the fact that he’d fucked things up majorly this time.

 

*****

 

A few weeks later, through the grapevine, Harry heard that the highly sought-after, handsome bachelor Mr. Tomlinson was engaged.

Harry stood there; feeling like the air around him had evaporated, playing that one word over and over again in his mind. Engaged. Apparently to a lovely young woman with a vast fortune and huge business prospects and they were very happy together. Women all over the city were devastated, and Harry had laughed a little at that; like they even knew the half of it.

That night Harry had grown angry, kicking things over and throwing things around his flat, furious that Louis got to move on so quickly, shoving himself back in the closet and pretending he and Harry had never happened while Harry was stuck on the slow path, lonely and empty. He tormented himself, standing on his balcony in the freezing, rushing wind in just a shirt, staring at Louis’ house. Was she in there with him? Having dinner with him like Harry used to? Did Louis touch her like he’d touched Harry? Was she in his bed?

The wedding date was set for Valentine’s Day, the newspapers said. Some people were shocked at such a quick engagement, but others cooed at the romantic nature of it, at two people so obviously in love. Harry had stuffed the newspaper in the bin then, feeling sick to his stomach. Before he knew it, it was February, and then Valentines was only just over a week away, and Harry was more and more miserable. Bert noticed, of course, but no amount of trying to cheer him up had any effect. Eventually he gave up, and Harry worked on in silence.

Then, exactly one week to Valentines’ Day, the bell over the shop door jingled. Harry was working in the back, just putting a batch of loaves in to bake, and left Bert to deal with the customer. But then he was called through to the front. He frowned as he went, dropping his cloth on the side.

He stopped in his tracks when he was met with Louis standing on the other side of the counter.

Suddenly all the hurt he’d been trying to suppress was back in full force, tearing through him, and he swallowed heavily.

“Hello,” he croaked out.

“Good afternoon,” Louis said. His tone was formal, but Harry knew his body too well and could see the tension in his shoulders, the stress lining his face. He looked tired, exhausted, even, but to Harry, he was still the most perfect thing he’d ever seen. He looked so out of place in the little shop, immaculately dressed, shining shoes and overcoat buttoned up against the cold.

“I was wondering if I might speak to Mr. Styles. It’s a matter of business,” Louis spoke to Bert, ignoring Harry completely.

“Oh. ‘Course, Mr,” Bert replied, looking flustered himself. “Tell you what; take the rest of the day off, Harry.”

“Are you sure?” Harry muttered, and Bert nodded.

“Looks important. S’okay, we’re quiet anyway.”

Harry chose not to point out that they were always quiet and hung his apron up, pulling on his cardigan.

“Thank you, sir.” Louis was saying to Bert. “Much appreciated.”

“No problem. See you later, Harry.”

“Bye.”

Louis strode out of the shop, climbing into his waiting car without a word to Harry. Harry followed, sitting in the passenger seat and looking sideways at Louis.

“We’re going to your place,” Louis said emotionlessly as he kicked the car into life, and Harry’s eyes widened.

“Oh, no, I don’t think....Can we go to your house instead?”

“I said, we’re going to your place.”

Harry hesitated a moment longer, then nodded and gave Louis directions. People on the streets gazed openly at Harry riding with Louis. They never had cars come through the village; some people hadn’t even set foot in one. Harry ducked his head, not making eye contact with any of them.

They pulled up to Harry’s block of flats and Harry lead him inside, heart in his mouth. He saw Louis look around, taking in the leaky roof and his unmade bed on the floor. Empty food packets and stray items of clothing littered the place and Harry scrambled to tidy up, kicking objects to the side of the room and throwing dirty clothes into a corner.

“Sorry, it’s a mess,” Harry apologized, shoving a hand through his hair. “I don’t usually get visitors.”

“That’s quite alright,” Louis said, and Harry grimaced.

“Look, Louis, I-“ He started, but he was cut off.

“I came for an explanation,” Louis said firmly. “I’m getting married next week, and I came to hear your side of the story. For closure.” His voice was robotic, like it was a practised speech.

“Closure?” Harry repeated. “That’s what you’re here for?”

“Mr. Styles-“

“Don’t call me that!” Harry ground out, and Louis looked surprised. “No, you don’t get to come here and demand an explanation so you can move on with your lovely little wife and leave me here like this.”

“Like what?” Louis demanded. “I don’t owe you anything. You were the one that lied, fucked me over! You owe me all the stuff I bought you! In fact, when we’re done here, I expect everything I bought you to be returned to me, then I never want to see you again.”

“You can’t be serious. Louis, please.”

“I just want to know why you did it. Why you lied to me,” Louis voice rose as he stared Harry down with cold, hard eyes.

Harry pressed his lip together. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know. Excellent,” Louis shook his head slightly, sarcasm biting at his tone. “I'm glad I came all this way just to hear you say that. Do you know what?” he said, and suddenly Harry saw in Louis the same hurt he’d been going through. His sad face made Harry’s heart clench. “Maybe I could have dealt with it, eventually, if you’d told me from the start. But it’s the fact that you lied. You had so many opportunities to tell me who you were.”

“What, so you could kick me out like you did at Christmas?”

“I don’t know what I’d have done.”

“Please, you wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me,” Harry folded his arms across himself. “I meant to tell you, so many times. But it all happened so quickly, and you were taking me out to dinner and buying me things, and you were so nice to me; it just got out of hand.”

“Don’t you try and blame this on me! This isn’t my fault!”

“That’s not what I’m saying! I mean, the more time I was with you, the more I didn’t want to leave. I got in over my head, and it was just never the right time. But nothing, nothing I ever did was to take advantage of you, you have to believe that,” he said firmly.

Louis dropped his gaze away from Harry and began pacing up and down his apartment, worrying his lip between his teeth. Harry stayed put, watching him as he moved.

“I never meant to stay, that first night,” Harry carried on softly. “I knew you always had parties, everyone in the Village knows that. I used to watch your house, listen to the music you had playing, and when I finally got there I was curious. And hungry,” he admitted sheepishly. “I hadn’t eaten properly in days, and there was food and warmth, I couldn’t help it.” Louis glanced at him then, and Harry was encouraged to see some of the anger fading from his eyes. He tried a little smile. “Then you came along, found me out on the balcony. The only reason I came back to the next party was you, I swear.”

Louis shook his head. “...But what about all that stuff you told me, about your family. You lied then, too,” he tried to say defiantly, but his anger sounded half-hearted.

“Not completely. I don’t have family, but we were never in the printing business. I’ve lived here all my life.” Harry chanced it, stepping in to Louis’ path and stopping him in tracks. “I’m so sorry, Louis,” he said softly. “I never meant any of this to happen. I mean, I'm so glad I met you, but I'm sorry I lied.”

Louis tried to look haughty and aloof but Harry could see that the fight had gone out of him, tension seeping from his shoulders. “I should hate you,” he groaned. “After everything...I should want to destroy you.”

“There’s not much left to destroy,” Harry shrugged with a sad smile. “But. You don’t?”

Louis’ eyes were softer when they met his, and he shook his head once. “No, I don’t. I don’t think I could ever hate you. I'm still angry, but, I'm glad I came here.”

Harry shuffled closer, relieved when Louis didn’t back away. For a moment they just watched each other, each waiting for the other's next move.

It was Harry who moved first. More boldly than he felt, he lifted a hand and touched a finger to Louis’ cheek, breath held in his chest. His hand was snatched away immediately, wrist gripped almost painfully in Louis’ own hand. Harry looked into Louis' blazing eyes, unsure, but then he was jerked forward and Louis grabbed the back of his neck to pull him down into a furious kiss.

Harry almost cried out in relief and cupped Louis’ cheek in his other hand, kissing back feverishly, like Louis lips were water and he was dying of thirst. His kiss was sweet relief, soothing his aching body and tight chest, and Harry felt Louis release his wrist and lace their fingers together, holding on tightly.

“I missed you so much,” Louis said into his lips, sounding hoarse. “Every single day. I couldn’t- I couldn’t handle it.”

“Me too,” Harry replied, pausing to run his tongue across Louis’ bottom lip, fists clenching in the material of Louis’ coat. “S’been hell. Forgive me, please.”

“Harry,” Louis said, suddenly serious as he pulled back, Harry went with him, focused on his mouth, but Louis’ hand came to rest in the middle of his chest. “No, forgive me...the way I spoke to you that night-“

But Harry shook his head dismissively, knocking Louis’ hand from his chest and reconnecting their lips. “I deserved it. Don’t care.” He wrapped his arms around Louis’ shoulders, crowding him into his personal space.

“I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry,” Louis breathed. "Can we...? I need you..."

Harry’s breath hitched in his throat. With shaky fingers he reached for the buttons of Louis overcoat, undoing them one at a time and then pushing it off his shoulders. Neither of them cared when it hit Harry’s dusty floor, to busy trying to undress each other. Harry felt Louis tug at his own thin t-shirt, fingers sliding through a couple of the holes to stroke parts of Harry’s skin. He fumbled with it, trying to pull it over Harry’s head.

“Damn thing,” he muttered, yanking it this way and that. When Harry wouldn’t part from him far enough to get it off he made an impatient noise, then there was a ripping sound and Harry’s t-shirt hung around his waist in two parts. Harry broke off, surprised, looking down at his bare chest curiously.

“It was a horrible thing anyway," Louis shrugged as he undid his trousers, letting them pool around his ankles. He grinned suddenly, disarmingly, and Harry almost wanted to cry with how long it had been since he’d seen Louis smile like that. His hands shook more and Louis gathered him close, soothing his shuddering breaths with gentle words as he finished undressing Harry for him while Harry could do nothing but bend his head down to rest on Louis shoulder and mouth at the side of his neck.

Louis walked them backward, dropping them gently down onto Harry’s old mattress and covering most of Harry’s body with his own. Harry shivered despite his flushed skin, colder now he was naked, and Louis reached back to pull one of the threadbare blankets up and partly over them to stave off the worst of the chill. Harry let his hands roam over Louis’ skin, body soft and pliant under Louis’ own fingers. He let his head fall back when Louis’s tongue ran a trail from his neck to a nipple, circling it and biting gently. When his hands were pulled off of Louis’ body and held over his head he whimpered, a broken sound that burst from his lips and he was rendered helpless as Louis licked into his mouth, tongue flicking and tasting. He felt Louis’ cock grow hard, bumping against his thigh and he parted his legs willingly, breath stuttering as Louis ground his hips down, tugging Harry’s bottom lip between his teeth as he did.

Harry’s hands were released, and they flew around Louis’ back, holding him close to his chest and feeling Louis’ skin against his own, where it belonged. His fingers dug into Louis’ shoulder blades when he stroked over Harry’s cock, his touch like a bolt of lightning up Harry’s spine.

“Shit. I don’t have anything,” Louis said, grimacing. “We don’t have to...”

“I want to.” Harry argued breathlessly. “Need it. Fuck me, please...please.”

“If you’re sure...” Harry nodded frantically and Louis shifted back, leaving Harry bereft of his lips, to suck two fingers into his mouth. The first finger that breached him slowly burned, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut, nails digging into Louis’ back.

“Relax, love,” Louis murmured, moving his finger in and out steadily. Harry focused, forcing his muscles to relax and allowed Louis to slide a second finger in next to the first. Louis pushed in further and began to part his fingers, stretching Harry out. He pulled them out to spit on them, pressing them back into Harry’s clinging heat and adding a third when Harry nodded. Before long, though, Harry was squirming on his fingers, pushing back on them and making soft breathy noises, so Louis pulled them out, quickly licking his palm and slicking up his cock, spreading precome around, before placing the blunt head at Harry’s hole. A voice in the back of Harry’s mind told him it wasn’t enough, but everything else he was overrode it, screaming at him to get Louis as close as he could possibly be.

“Are you sure?” Louis asked, poised.

“Do it.”

“If I hurt you...”

“You won’t, just go slow,” Harry encouraged, pulling his knees back and tugging Louis closer.

Like he’d expected, the first couple of inches were hell, and Harry gritted his teeth and breathed through his nose as Louis stilled, waiting for his okay. Louis bent close, whispering words of praise and kissing the space under Harry’s ear, doing his best to alleviate his discomfort. Finally, after minutes that seemed to go on forever, he was all the way in, and Harry threw his head back on the pillow and groaned loudly. Louis’ hands were everywhere, running over his ribs, waist, hip, one hand coming to rest on Harry’s thin thigh and gripping his skin, strong fingers pressing hard enough to bruise as he held Harry’s leg to his waist. His breath was hot on Harry’s neck, warm and damp. His back felt sweaty when Harry ran his hands down to palm his bum, guiding his slow, rolling thrusts and pulling him deep.

“Christ, Harry,” Louis gasped into his neck. “So good.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply and found his voice stuck, unable to form words to repeat the same back to him. He could only turn his head to nuzzle into the side of Louis’ head, overwhelmed with how good it was, it right it felt to have Louis back with him. Even if they were on Harry’s little old bed that was so thin Harry could almost feel the floor under his back, and not in the comfort of Louis’ plush bed, it didn’t matter. Not really. All Harry knew was Louis’ body moving above him.

He began pushing back with every thrust, meeting Louis’ pace. His body jolted as pleasure shot through him when Louis stroked past his prostate, goose bumps erupting over his skin, and Louis propped himself up on his elbows, rolling his hips more firmly and setting a faster pace, curving his forearms around Harry’s head. Harry could do nothing but hold onto his waist and Louis pressed their lips together, sharing strained breaths. All too soon heat began pooling in the pit of his stomach, enhanced by his painfully hard cock trapped between them.

“Close,” he choked out, and Louis reached for one of hands, gripping it in his own.

“Together,” he said, pushing hard for a few final thrusts, bumping Harry’s prostate, and then Harry’s vision went white and he arched into Louis with a shout and came, untouched, muscles tense and twitching. Louis followed, stilling above him and crying out Harry’s name, chest heaving. He fell onto Harry and Harry wrapped his arms around him tight, feeling his heart thunder above his own. Turning his head to the right he nosed at Louis’ hairline and inhaled, breathing in the smell of soap and expensive cologne and sweat.

All at once he felt himself begin to stitch back together; the shattered parts of him beginning to mend themselves and he let himself drift, cradled in Louis’ arms.

 

*****

 

“Zayn left his wife.” Louis said casually when they'd both recovered a while later. Harry didn’t have any food to fix for them but Louis didn’t mention it, seemingly content to lay with Harry under his blankets and feed off each other’s body heat.

Harry looked up from when his head rested on Louis’ shoulder. "What?"

Louis nodded. “Mmhm. Couple of weeks ago. Turned up at the house with no wedding ring looking like he hadn’t slept in days. Told Liam he’d left her and if he still wanted to run, he’d run with him.”

“Wow.”

“Mm.”

“Where are they now?”

“Zayn bought a house on the outskirts of town, out in the middle of nowhere. Wants Liam to move in with him.”

“D’you think he will?”

“Pfft,” Louis snorted softly. “Course. S’all he’s ever wanted.” He ran his fingers up Harry’s arm and twined them into his hair, stroking slowly.

“What about his wife? Will they divorce?”

"Don’t know, really. Liam said something about paying her off, to keep her mouth shut. Zayn told her he’d found another woman, and I think that’s what he’ll tell the papers too. He’s going to take the fall for everything.’

“Even though it could destroy him?”

“Apparently so.”

Harry was silent for a minute. “And what will we do?” He asked quietly. “After next week, when you’re, you know.”

Suddenly he was hauled up, manhandled so he lay on top of Louis. Louis tried to look him directly in the eyes but Harry avoided his gaze, looking anywhere but his face.

“Harry,” Louis gripped his chin between his thumb and his forefinger. “Look at me.” He demanded, and Harry did so reluctantly.

“My god, you’re serious.” Louis barked out a laugh.

Harry frowned and tried to squirm away, shifting off his body and back from him. Louis didn’t let go, following him over and rolling them so he hovered above Harry, staring down at him. Harry glared petulantly. "Don’t laugh at me.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Louis pressed a kiss to his forehead. “But...you don’t really think I’m still going through with that farce of a marriage, do you?”

“You mean...”

“Course I’m not doing it. Not after this,” his eyes turned soft. “In case you hadn’t guessed yet, you’re kind of...it...for me.”

Something in Harry’s belly squirmed and he felt himself smile stupidly, blushing all the way from his cheeks to his chest.

“And you, for me, too,” he said, shaking his head at how lame he sounded. Before he could say anything else Louis had his hands in his hair and his tongue in his mouth. Harry grinned.

 

*****

 

True to his word, Louis called off his wedding. If there was a fallout from it, he kept everything from Harry, hiding the newspapers and letting Liam deal with any reporters that came to the door hoping for an exclusive interview. Instead they hid from the world, shutting themselves away in Louis' house.

The morning after Louis had turned up at the bakery, Harry had come out of the bathroom to Louis gathering his belongings together and piling them by the door, folding his clothes carefully and stacking them into a meagre pile. He said nothing when he noticed Harry watching from where he’d dropped down and sprawled naked on the bed, just smiled softly and carried on. They dressed quietly; Harry buttoned Louis’ trousers then let Louis slip a new t-shirt over his head, giving Harry his coat to wear. Then they’d picked up Harry’s things, shut the door behind them, and that had been that.

Louis had cleared space for Harry in his wardrobe and bathroom and hung his clothes up, sitting Harry’s razor next to his own by the sink. The first thing Harry had done was ask if he could have a bath, and Louis had been more than obliging, sinking down into the steaming water with him and resting on Harry’s chest. It was calm and peaceful; not much needed to be said between them. Harry lay back and relaxed, letting the water soothe his tired muscles and was content in knowing that yes, they would be okay now. He could handle anything anyone threw at him as long as he got to come home to this.

Despite Louis protesting that he could take care of Harry and that he’d never need to worry about anything ever again, Harry still went to work at the bakery. Only now he was dropped off and picked up by Louis in his car and he turned up in properly fitting trousers and shirts, with a new shorter haircut that made his unruly curls straighter, his fringe pushed back onto his forehead. Bert hadn’t recognized him when he first walked in and had looked thoroughly confused when Harry stepped behind the counter and pulled his apron on. When he got his next pay check, Harry had given it straight to Bert; he needed it more than Harry did. Harry didn’t need to pay rent on his flat anymore, anyway. Louis helped him sell it, finding a buyer and making sure Harry got a good price for it. It wasn’t much, but it was more money than he’d ever had in his life.

People in the village assumed Harry had come into some money and could afford to move to the City; business even picked up in the bakery because of him. People of all ages came in under the pretence of buying something to peer at the well-dressed young man who had begun to bridge the gap between the North and South sides. Some people stuck around to see his supposed ‘friend’ Mr Tomlinson come to pick him up in his car and gawped when Louis sometimes got out of the car to pick up a pastry or two when Harry’s shift ended. What they didn’t know and what they kept secret was that as soon as Louis had Harry in the house with their bedroom door shut safely behind them, Louis was tearing off his clothes, telling him between kisses how boring his day had been without him around.

By day they were nothing more than friends, but by night Harry lay in Louis’ arms, soft pants filling the air as Louis pressed into him slowly and kissed his way down Harry’s body. More often than not it would be Harry clinging to Louis’ shoulders, or sinking down onto his cock, but there would be nights when Louis handed the jar of lube to Harry and lay back, spreading his legs and letting Harry inside. Harry had been terrified the first time and Louis had been tense, but they’d worked it out and now Harry was more than willing on the nights Louis asked for him.

The scandal of Louis’ almost-marriage died down after a few weeks and people found new things to gossip about. Unfortunately, however, those things seemed to be only one singular thing: Zayn’s divorce. The papers screamed about his infidelity and the shame of his abandoning his poor wife, and they all got more irritated whenever the papers came up with a new sensationalist article. But Harry only had to look at Liam’s expression turn soft and peaceful whenever anyone mentioned Zayn’s name, or listen to him talk about how good things were with them and it all seemed worth it. Liam stayed Louis’ PA, but every night drove to Zayn’s new house where he was lying low to be with him. Niall was more conscious of them, cautious and even more alert to make sure no one, not even the staff that buzzed around Louis’ house during the day, had any reason to suspect anything. Every night before he left to go home he informed Louis and Harry that the house was clear and secure, and if he knew where Zayn and Liam were hiding he made no move to broadcast that fact.

There was an unspoken knowledge between Louis and Harry that they would never able to go public as a couple; the effects would be disastrous. Maybe in the future things would change and people would become more accepting, but for now it was their little secret, one for them and their little makeshift family to keep. And that was okay, because for perhaps the first time in his life Harry could say that he was honestly, completely, genuinely happy. Louis would sometimes find Harry on the balcony, huddled in a thick jumper and warm blanket looking out across the river to his old flat and thinking back on how sad he’d been, but he always fitted himself around Harry, enveloping them both in the blanket and standing there, heart swelling with pride at the image of a lonely boy that once dreamed of being on this side of the river who had transformed into this incredible man that he got to call his own.

Of course it was still hard sometimes, especially when it came to the parties that Louis still held every Friday night. Guests got used to seeing Harry there and sometimes came to talk to him, and Harry was pleasantly surprised to learn that they weren’t stuck up at all; most of them were friendly and welcoming, even if there were the odd few who knew where Harry had come from and didn’t like him being there. Some even told him that outright, and swiftly after they did Niall removed them from the party and Liam ensured they never received another invitation to Louis’ house.

Harry and Louis circled each other like caged animals, eyes catching across rooms, arms brushing when they passed each other. Sometimes they managed to sneak away, but most of the time they had to wait until the end of the night when the last guest had gone, Liam had taken off to see Zayn and Niall had informed them the house was clear before they could touch each other. They fell into bed, quiet laughter and whispers of lust and love passed between them through kisses.

Sometimes in the dead of night Harry lay awake, watching moonlight spill over Louis’ bare skin and the slow rise and fall of his breathing. The thought of how close he had come to losing Louis haunted him still, and he couldn’t help but pull Louis closer and rest his head on the same pillow. Louis would always grumble a little but settle into his arms all the same, snuffling into Harry’s neck, and Harry would stroke a finger down the outside of his ear and think he was so in love his heart could burst.

He'd tug Louis ever closer, settle down into the warmth, and slip into dreams of vivid technicolour.

**Author's Note:**

> I did research this fic, but if anything is historically incorrect feel free to let me know :)  
> Title comes from 30 Minute Love Affair, by Paloma Faith.  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
